


White Stars Book 1&2 (Albus Potter <3 Scorpius Malfoy)

by skittheskywatcher



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: 19 years later, Adventure, Albus/Scorpius - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Animals, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Biology, Bullying, Cursed Child, Cute, Deaf Character, Disabled Character, Dragons, Drarry, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay Male Character, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Good Slytherins, Happy, Hearing Impaired, Hogwarts, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Next Gen, Nineteen Years Later, Octopi & Squid, Peacocks, Queer Gen, Queer Themes, Queerplatonic Relationships, Ravenclaw, Romance, Science, Slytherin, Squibs, Stars, Trans Character, hearing aid, next gen friendship, non-binary, punk teddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:57:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 28,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittheskywatcher/pseuds/skittheskywatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus is uncomfortable in his own skin. He is deaf, bullied by his brother and his friends, and is Harry Potter's under-achieving son.  To top it all, he is growing closer and closer with Scorpius Malfoy, widely hated, and intensely odd in a cheerful, somewhat alluring way... </p><p>Scorpius has it worse than Albus in many ways. Gryffindors hate him on principle because of who his father was, and a fair amount of Slytherins shun him because he is the first squib to be accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "White Stars" follows the two boys' relationship with their families and their friendship as it deepens, despite grave challenges.</p><p>Together, they will face prejudice, spite, and the darkness which sometimes arises from the most unexpected of places.</p><p>*The Title is a reference to the meaning of the two boys' names - 'Albus' comes from the Latin for white, and 'Scorpius' refers to a constellation of stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scorpions Don't Have Wings

**Author's Note:**

> *I haven't read or seen the Cursed Child purposely yet. I wanted to write this without being influenced by new canon. I've also tried to stick to canon as closely as possible. The only things I changed were Albus' hearing, Scorpius being a squib, and Teddy being queer af (bless them).*
> 
> *minor swearing, like "bloody" and "git", which were printed in the original books so I figured it would be ok?*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy struggles to come to terms with Scorpius' inability to perform magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please do vote or comment if you liked it - or if you have improvements or thoughts. I genuinely appreciate any time given <3

**(Draco) Chapter 1 - Scorpions Don’t Have Wings**

    “Come on, Scorpius”, Draco Malfoy pleaded through gritted teeth.

     “Don’t make me do this. Just show me what you are, yes? Show daddy some magic?”

     His hands clasped his child firmly, as if trying to squeeze magic out of him physically. He looked down at his long white fingers, wrapped like bone around the three year old’s forearms, and back up to little Scorpius, who was regarding him solemnly in silence.

There was nothing else for it.

    Malfoy breathed out, shifted, and lowered Scorpi out of the window. Although they no longer lived at the manor – Draco had sold it along with almost everything else – this house still boasted a drop from the top floor window which could prove fatal to anyone, let alone a toddler like Scorpi.

     Scorpius’s face had been shocked at first, but he now began to cry. Malfoy could feel the thick bile rising in his throat as his little boy was framed against the dark pavement below. He had always been a wisp of a child; tiny, fragile, and colourless; a leaf skeleton in the breeze. Draco gulped, pushing down his fear with a wave of anger. He began to sway Scorpius; gently at first, and then, as the seconds trickled by and nothing happened, more desperately. He longed for some sign that he hadn’t fathered a squib. Scorpi _had_ to have magic. _He had to._

     Draco had had the idea of dropping him from the window after remembering something he’d overheard Longbottom saying years ago – that his gran had thought him a squib until he had fallen from the window, and bounced instead of splatting.

     “No! Do not think about splatting right now!” He thought, furiously.

     He was beginning to cry too; his own choked sobs now joining his three year old’s wails. Unbidden and unwanted, the images crashed through his mental barriers – Scorpi, lying broken and discarded on the ground, shrouded in the sickly sweet smell of blood, so familiar from his death-eater days. The awful, stark contrast of scarlet, blossoming from the little white skull; his little boy, dead.

     It was too much. What was he doing? Malfoy pulled Scorpius back onto the window sill, resting their foreheads together and mumbling frantically,  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Their tears and ragged breathing ran together as Draco clutched his child to his chest.

     In the hallway, concealed from view, but absorbing the scene in silence, Astoria Malfoy stood, watching. Although her face was encased in shadow, its sharp lines could still just about be discerned. Her expression was cold, hard - and disappointed.


	2. Son of My Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astoria breaks Draco's heart, warning: one swear word in this chapter.

** (The Malfoys) Chapter 2: Son of my Shame  **

     On the day that Scorpius Malfoy’s life was turned upside down, the timid sun was peering through the spring clouds, lighting up the garden at intervals. A soft breeze whistled through the grass and skimmed the top of Scorpi’s head, lifting a few stray blonde hairs as it passed.

    From the kitchen window, which was slightly ajar, the smell of onions, tomatoes, and buried tension wafted out to where he sat, observing the little albino peachicks from a safe distance. He’d learned the hard way that getting too close to the baby chicks when their parents were nearby was a bad idea, even if you only wanted to make new friends.

     Scorpi was as happy as any healthy, well cared for six-year-old had any right to be. He felt lonely sometimes, it was true – other magical families did not like their children mixing with him for some reason – but he got along fine with the peacocks and his father to play with. And of course, he had his treasures – his science books – to keep him occupied. Father bought them for him when his mother wasn’t around, because she didn’t approve of all that “muggle garbage”. Scorpi wasn’t entirely sure his father approved either, but Scorpi liked them, so Draco continued to slip them to him on the sly. Scorpius had them stashed under his old baby blanket at the back of his wardrobe, and read them furtively whenever he could steal a private moment.

     The books were his lifeline; they painted the world in colours Scorpi had scarcely dared to imagine before. There were fantastic creatures, so small that they could only be seen with a microscope (a kind of muggle telescope for looking at very tiny things), and unseen forces with odd names like gravity, friction, and elasticity. Scorpius’ favourite book was one by someone called David Attenborough. He’d been reading about peacocks again in it this morning, and he whispered the words he knew by heart to himself as he lay on the grass.

    “The peacock, also known as peafowl, is a medium sized bird, most closely related to the pheasant…”

    He liked to pretend that he was David Attenborough sometimes; he would imitate his voice, which he had heard on the wireless one time when Father had heard that he would be speaking on the muggle radio, and had somehow managed to tune in. It had been a wonderful voice; deep, and warm, like a summer stream, or like honey for your ears. Scorpi giggled at the thought of someone putting honey in their ears. That sounded uncomfortable and sticky; although the ears in question would probably taste better than ears usually did…

     Inside the kitchen, Scorpius’ mother, Astoria, stood watching her son with a similar intensity to that with which he was watching the birds. As she peered through the glass at him, there was, however, not even the suggestion of a smile on her face. Instead, the corners of her mouth were turned down, slightly, as if she was mildly repulsed by what she saw, or was trying not to cry.

     Her partner, Draco, stood behind her, oblivious to her discomfort as he chopped up vegetables with flicking movements of his wand. His lower lip was caught between his teeth, and he hummed as he prepared the food. The Malfoys had always had a cook when he was growing up, so it had taken him a while to get the hang of it, but he was becoming more and more confident as time went by; at least, his chopped carrots no longer looked like a violent murderer had set about them with an axe. Draco’s face was relaxed and cheerful, if a little pink from the steam billowing from the many saucepans. He didn’t know it yet, but it would be a long time before he would look this happy again.

     “I can’t do this anymore.”

     Astoria spoke in a voice which was brittle and quiet, but which somehow carried over the chopping, bubbling and humming.

     “Do what?”

      Draco replied, coming out of the zone, and momentarily confused. Astoria didn’t seem to be doing anything much, other than staring out into the garden.

     “This,” She repeated. “Us.”

     The last syllable broke between them like a hiss.

     The realisation of what she was saying washed over Draco. He looked as if he had been plunged into icy water; as if he had only just realised that he was drowning; but Astoria had been drowning quietly for a very long time. About six years, in fact.

     Draco moved around the counter, and behind him, the carrots fell into a china bowl with a soft tinkling. He reached out, grasping her shoulders gently, forcing her to look into his face.

     “What is it? If you’re unhappy – if I’ve done something – we can work it out. We can fix it.”

     “It’s not you, it’s-”

     “It’s not you, it’s me?” Draco looked incredulous for a moment. “Ten years. Ten years and that is how you try to break up with me?”

     In his bewilderment, Draco resembled their son more than ever, and Astoria began to feel like she was being suffocated. She untangled herself from her boyfriend’s hands and stepped backwards, ignoring the fact that Draco reacted as if she had slapped him.

     “I was going to say that it’s not you. It’s him. It- It’s obvious what he is by now. I’ve stayed and stayed, hoping that I was wrong. He’s six years old, Draco, and he’s not shown a single sign of magical ability - not for a moment.”

     “He’s your son… he’s our boy?” Draco’s reply was more of a question, his tone uncomprehending. “It doesn’t matter what he can or can’t do. He’s our child, not something to be ashamed of.”

     “He is both,” answered Astoria, curtly. “And I cannot pretend anymore. He’s a- a-”

     “Say it”, he spat with sudden venom.

     “A squib, ok?”

     The confession seemed to add fuel to Astoria’s anger.

     “And you – with your damned muggle books, encouraging him. Don’t think I don’t know about those! It’s like you don’t even care what people think – you keep inviting people over and parading him about in front of them… our friends don’t come here anymore because they don’t want their kids mixing with him.”

     “Stop –” Draco began, angrily, but Astoria had been holding in this growing ball of poison for years, and it was all tumbling out at once.

     “Don’t tell me to stop like you don’t think the same things when you look at him!”

     “I don’t! He’s -”

      “You don’t? You don’t? I’m not the one who tried to throw him out of the fucking window!”

 

      This stopped Draco short.

     “You saw that? You knew?”

      “I saw it.” She replied. “And I don’t blame you.”

     “I blame me. He could have died, Astoria.”

   

 

   “Maybe he should have.”

 

 

     They looked at each other for a moment across a seemingly insurmountable distance of a few feet. The blonde wizard seemed to have momentarily lost the ability to speak. Astoria filled his silence with more words.

     “I’m leaving, Draco. You can come with me if you want. My feelings for you have not changed. I still love you; but I cannot – I cannot - love Scorpius. So you must choose; him, or me.”

     Draco turned his back, and leaned over the work surface, his head bowed. Astoria reached across and placed her palm in the dip between the sharp ridges of his shoulder blades. She felt the hum of his voice through her fingers as he made his decision.

      “I will never abandon Scorpius. Not for anyone. Not even for you.”

      “Fine.” Astoria Greengrass withdrew her hand with a sense of finality. She scowled as she whirled out of the kitchen, and out of their lives.


	3. A Way To Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **disclaimer: I'm not usually a sappy draco fan who believes he was really pure and good underneath. He's definitely a twat in the books and being assigned a cute actor does not automatically redeem his character (lol) 
> 
> but I do think he was forced into things he was uncomfortable with. He was a coward and a bigot - but never a true killer. So I think in later years, having grown into fatherhood, Scorpi would help Draco redeem himself. Maybe not in the dramatic way here in canon? Maybe in a subtle way, so that he attempts to bring up Scorpi without all the prejudices and arrogance he absorbed at a young age. I don't know. I'm rambling and things.*

** Chapter 3: (Draco): A Way To Be Good **

**author’s note: Teddy uses they/them/their/themself pronouns because they are genderfluid. This is not a grammatical error**

            It was Christmas Eve, the year that Scorpius would turn eight. His father was draped despondently over the sofa, somehow elegant even in his exhaustion. The legal case – Scorpius’ – had proved to be very draining. Scorpi himself lay on his stomach before a hearty fire, with one of the peacocks curled on top of him like a pet cat. Draco hadn’t been able to convince him that the birds would be alright if left outside in the cold.

            “Woahhh, dad! Dad!” He waved the magazine he was reading in front of his father. “Have you seen this? This is what the inside of your ears looks like, dad!” Draco opened one eye and peered at the picture. He still found it odd that muggle pictures didn’t move. “Looks like a snail to me,” he smiled, making Scorpius chuckle.

            “This part is called the-” but the doorbell interrupted his son’s explanation. This did not deter him, and he continued to chatter about ear-parts and sound waves as Draco heaved himself up and went to answer the door, nodding over his shoulder.

            The bell had rung three more times before he reached the end of the narrow hallway. _Bloody carol singers_ , he thought to himself.

      “Alright, alright, I’m coming! I’m coming,” Draco called as he slid back the chain and opened the door. He shivered involuntarily as a blast of December wind shocked the skin on his uncloaked arms.

     This shock was nothing compared to the one waiting on his front step. For a moment he simply stared, aghast, because Bellatrix Lestrange could _not_ be here – she had been dead for nearly thirteen years.

      Then, as the woman stepped forwards into the flickering light of the porch-lamp, Draco realised that it was not Bellatrix at all, but her sister, Andromeda.

     His youngest aunt stood tall before him; straight-backed and proud, yet softer, somehow, than Bellatrix had been. She was still handsome in an angled, aristocratic fashion, even though she must have been well into her fifties by now.

     Draco swallowed. He could feel his guts twisting uncomfortably. The last time – and the only other time –he’d seen Andromeda Tonks had been at Malfoy Manor, when she and her husband had been tortured for information.

     “A-Andromeda?”

     She raised one eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to invite us in, Draco? It’s rather too cold for this waiting on the doorstep and gawping business.”

      Draco nodded, dumbly, and stepped aside as his aunt strode in, shadowed by a bright-haired, pink-nosed teenager. The latter figure winked at him as they passed. Draco stared back in disbelief. He let the door swing shut, wondering what on earth was going on, and whether all the effort he’d been putting into Scorpius’ case might be having an adverse impact on his sanity.

Leading his guests into the kitchen, he felt for the lights with fumbling fingers. Draco felt very shaky, in a way he hadn’t for a long time. He really hoped he wasn’t about to have a flashback or a panic attack – not in front of these two, not when he’d been doing so well –

     “Um – tea? Pumpkin juice? Here, I’ll take your coats,” He said to break the silence and to interrupt the anxious flow of his thoughts.

     Teddy Lupin – there was no-one else the teen could have been with that _hair_ \- shook their head and handed him a heavy leather jacket.

     “Tea for me please.” His aunt replied, eyeing him through her glasses. As she stood with her back to the window, the winter moon seemed to crown her dark hair with a silver halo. She really did resemble her sister, although her features were neither as harsh nor as cruel as Bellatrix’s had been. Something about her manner reminded Draco of Professor McGonagall.

      “Right… yes…” He mumbled as he fussed about with the kettle, spilling water on the floor and taking overly long to light the grate before clumsily hooking the kettle over it.

     “Is there somewhere Teddy can wait while we talk?” Andromeda asked, pointedly.

     Although Draco found the idea of being left alone with Andromeda daunting to say the least, he nodded politely. “My son, Scorpius – your second cousin, I suppose – is in the lounge. I’m sure he’d be happy to keep you company. It’s the last door at the end of the hallway.” Teddy smiled, and exited the room.

     Draco looked down at his hands as he waited in apprehension for Andromeda to speak. He couldn’t for the life of him think what she could want from _him_ of all people, after all these years.

     She cleared her throat and took a step forwards. “I’m going to cut to the chase and get straight to why I’m here,” she said, decisively. Draco couldn’t help but be reminded of how she had been similarly calm and controlled under torture.

     “For a long time I hated my family. First because of their attitude towards those they deemed… _unworthy_ , then because they cut me off. And later, because of all they cost me and mine. And I hated you, too, for years, because you were a part of it all. Because you did nothing to stop them. I told myself that the fact that you had barely any choice in the matter, and that you were so young, didn’t matter. I told myself I’d defied my parents when I was not much older than you were, then.

      But the truth of it is that I was offered a way out. Ted – my husband – he showed me how wrong pureblood ideals were. I had help. I had someone to run _to_. And of course, my parents were just my parents… I was not caught between fearing for their protection from the dark lord, and making the choice that seemed right. I convinced myself – wrongly- that you were to blame for so much of the pain in my life. It was easier with someone to hate.” There was a pause.

     “Draco,” his aunt said, more softly. He dared to glance up at her and was surprised to see that she didn’t appear angry or bitter, as he had expected.

      “I am not here to dredge up the past. I can do that alone. In every mirror I see the last face my Dora saw before she died. In Teddy I see so much of her every day, and of his father, Remus. You knew Remus, he taught you at Hogwarts.”

     Draco nodded again.

      “I have felt enough hatred to last me a lifetime. I’m here to offer you forgiveness, and I hope that you will forgive me too, for taking so long to be able to speak these words to you. I wanted to mean them, and I think that now, finally, I can.”

      “You – you what?” Draco’s voice was white with astonishment.

      “How – you can’t – you _know_ what I’ve done! How dare you forgive me, how _dare_ you? I fought beside those who murdered your daughter. I’m part of the reason your grandchild is an orphan! And when _he_ brought you into the manor – I turned away. _I turned away_. I didn’t stop her when she cursed you, again, and again”. His knees felt weak and his voice broke. He did not understand.

     How – _dare you_ – forgive me?” He repeated.

      “This family has lost enough.” Andromeda said, simply, holding out her hand. Her white-gloved fingers were an offering of peace he did not deserve. But after a moment, and with more than a little courage, he took them. They simply stood there for a long moment, looking at each other.

       Draco felt, to his horror, tears welling up, but his aunt did not laugh at him. Instead, she briskly summoned a handkerchief from the front pocket of her handbag, and held it out.

     “You have changed, Draco.” She continued, as he dabbed his eyes. “I heard what you have been doing for your son, for all those like him - and I can see it in you now as you stand before me. You are not the lost boy you once were. And you are finally fighting for the right things. It is never too late to find your courage.”

      The tension was broken as the kettle whistled violently, making them both jump. Draco gave a rather teary laugh and crossed the room to see to it.

     “I never asked which was your preferred flavour of tea,” he said. “We have pumpkin tea, colour-change tea, lemon tea, Bertie Bott’s every flavour tea, dragon-liver tea – that one’s rather better than it sounds – green tea, blue tea, vapour-shaper tea, par-tea, plen-tea, warm-me tea, giggle-tea and P-G Tips.”

     “I’ll have the last one, thank you. Puddifoot’s-Grown has always been my ‘cup of tea’, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

      As Draco turned to drop the bags into the pot and pour the kettle, he felt as if a great weight he hadn’t even realised was there had suddenly disappeared. It had been the first time anyone had told him that he deserved to be forgiven. He smiled as he stirred and replaced the lid of the pot.

       Perhaps there was hope, after all.

 

Perhaps there was a way to be good again.  


	4. Harry Potter and the Git Who Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Albus (yay) and the Golden Trio discuss Draco Bloody Malfoy.

**  (Harry) Chapter 4: Harry Potter and the Git Who Changed **

            It was Christmas at the Burrow, and the air was bubbling with excitement. On every floor, hyperactive and (mostly) red-haired children were chasing one another, and poor Mrs Weasley hurried up and down the stairs, cleaning this, fixing that, and fretting that she hadn’t made enough mince pies. (This last in spite of the fact that the kitchen table was positively groaning under the weight of her many pastries.)

            In the living room, George was teasing a grey-flecked Crookshanks by making a golden bauble hover just out of his reach, to the great amusement of a semi-circle of yet more children. Sprawled over the sofa, Charlie was recounting stories of near-escapes from wild dragons to a grinning Bill and a more worried-looking Fleur. Percy and Audrey were listening to Ginny and Angelina debate feminism in Quidditch, and Mr Weasley had fallen asleep again by the fire, despite the incessant cooing of the wireless and the raucous laughter of his grandchildren.

            Everyone was warm, happy, and very loud. Harry decided that it was the perfect time to ask Ron and Hermione something he’d been wanting to discuss since the Daily Prophet had arrived that morning. He pulled his copy out of his pocket and flattened it on the table.

“Did either of you read the paper this morning?”

            As he had expected, Hermione nodded, her expression telling him she already knew what he wanted to talk about.

            “Nope” Ron replied, lounging back. “Why? What’s happened? Did Hagrid try breeding hippogriffs with chimeras again?”

            “No,” Harry answered simply, “Malfoy.”

            “Malfoy?” Ron’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “What’s that git gone and done now?”

            “If you must know, he seems to be doing some good”, Hermione said, as Harry pushed the newspaper across the table to Ron. He snorted at his wife but did not reply because he had already started to read.

     Below a thick-lettered title which read, “Equality for Squibs?” A monochrome photograph depicted Draco Malfoy, looking just as lean and pointed as ever, although rather tired. He was smiling down at a boy who could only be his son – the resemblance between them was uncanny, perhaps even unnerving. Harry leaned forwards as Ron frowned and began to read aloud.

     “There has been great uproar this week after a petition demanding equal rights for squibs was brought before the Wizengamot on Tuesday by none other than the infamous ex-death-eater, Draco Malfoy. Among other things, the petition, which Mr Malfoy has fought to be debated in government for some time now, asks that Laws concerning the protection of squib children be updated to ensure their safety, and that these children be offered a place at Hogwarts School alongside children of magical ability.

     If the Wizengamot votes in favour of passing this motion, it is expected to revolutionise not only magical education, but also the entire social standing of squibs within the magical community.

     Such a controversial agenda has, of course, elicited backlash from more conservative-minded wixen. In Diagon Alley, arguably the hub of magical activity in London, anti-squib posters have begun to appear, and some shops have even begun to refuse to serve known-squibs.

     One worried parent, who wishes to remain anonymous, confided their fears that such a movement, if passed, would prove a slippery slope. “I mean, what’s next?” She asked, “Giving out degrees to house elves? Inviting muggles to attend Hogwarts? It’s utterly ridiculous. Hogwarts is a school of witchcraft and wizardry, not muggle-craft and squibbery!”

     At Hogwarts itself, however the news has been received in a rather different manner. The headmaster, Professor Neville Longbottom, has professed his outright support for equal education opportunities for all.

     “Squibs would be able to study subjects which did not involve wand-magic”, he told the Daily Prophet last night. “These would include history of magic, wandless potions, care of magical creatures, Herbology, Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, Divination and Ancient Runes.”

     In fact, Longbottom was convinced that minimal adjustments to the standard Hogwarts Curriculum would have to be made in order for it to be suitable for non-magical students.

     We asked what the current headmaster of Hogwarts thought about the fact that Draco Malfoy was heading this surprising new development, but he declined to comment.

      Despite his shady past, Mr Malfoy, pictured above with his son Scorpius, who is a squib, certainly does seem to have turned over a new leaf. He has also been behind recent campaigns to increase awareness and understanding of those who are born into magical families but are not a wixen, themselves. We met with Mr Malfoy to discuss the issue. Read the full interview on page five.”

     Ron looked up over the top of the paper. His eyebrows had ascended so far up his forehead that they had almost merged with his ginger hairline.

     “He’s still a git.” He said after a moment.

     Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ron! They’re debating the rights of an entire group of people and all you want to talk about is Malfoy being a git?” She looked at Harry as if expecting him to agree with her, but Harry was looking at Ron.

      “So you don’t think he’s really changed then?” He asked, trying to make it sound as if he didn’t care too much at all. Hermione glanced at him quizzically, but Ron merely snorted again.

     “’Course not! Once a pillock, always a pillock, especially where Malfoy is concerned. The bloke was a death eater, mate. I don’t think he’s suddenly all holy and good just because he’s making a fuss to get his kid into Hogwarts.”

      “Well yes,” Hermione began, interrupting Harry before he could reply to Ron, “but it takes guts for Malfoy to be in the public eye over anything these days, especially over something as personal as having a squib for a son. If you ask me, he’s changed. I’m not saying that he’s suddenly a good person, or that what he does cancels out what he’s done in the past… but the Malfoy we knew would never have acted like _this_.” She gestured at the paper.

      Harry nodded, thinking. “He’d have covered it up – seen it as a stain on his family honour or some rubbish”, he said, slowly. “He was all about blood purity. Family Name. Whatever.”

      Ron looked from one to the other.

     “Oh what the heck,” he yawned, after realising that they were both serious. “bloody hell, its Christmas, and there are better things I’d like to do than discuss Draco bloody Malfoy”

      Hermione began to say something about the importance of squib-acceptance in magical society, but Ron pulled her into a kiss. Harry looked away, hiding a smile. Ron had only done that to shut her up, he knew full well, and so did Hermione, but she let him get away with it. It was Christmas, after all.

     Harry’s eyes fell on Albus, his youngest son. He was curled up in the corner, his hands over his ears, and his expression distressed. Albus hated loud environments. He struggled to hear at the best of times, but when there was a great deal of background noise, as there was at the moment, he found it disorientating and sometimes painful. Harry scraped back his chair and was about to go to his son, when he was tackled, hard, by a bright, leather-clad ball.

     “oof! Teddy!” He grumbled, but hugged his godchild back with a grin. “Happy Christmas Harry!” Came the muffled reply. Andromeda stalked into the room a second later, her eyes twinkling a little, and followed by a rather harassed-looking Mrs Weasley.

     “dinner’s nearly ready, everybody!” She called. “Fred! Lily – can you help nanna set the table, dears?”

     Mr Weasley awoke with a loud snort at the mention of food.


	5. Sentinels: Silent and Sure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy and Albus have a heart to heart in the Weasleys' back garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teddy uses they/them/their pronouns because they are genderfluid and mostly non-binary neutrois
> 
> All signs are legitimate British Sign Language (I'm hearing impaired myself so this stuff is legit I promise haha) 
> 
> And yes the Chapter Title is a Les Mis reference. Enormous Kudos to anyone who noticed <3 <3

** Chapter 5 (Teddy) Sentinels; Silent and Sure **

 *** (disclaimer: all signs described are from British Sign Language) ***

**and yes that was a Les Mis reference**

     Harry moved off to greet Andromeda, and Teddy let go of him, turning to Albus instead, and kneeling down. They said nothing, but waved one hand in greeting, and nodded towards the garden with an unspoken invitation. Albus took their hand and the two of them left together.

     Outside, the stars blinked coldly from afar, and under the light from the bottled fairies, their breaths erupted as white smoke from their lips. Albus grinned up at Teddy, whose hair was turning whiter with every passing second, reflecting the sudden temperature drop. Teddy winked down at the little boy, and they both sat on the step. Cold though it was, Albus had needed to get out of the noise for a while, and Teddy knew this. They pulled one of Hermione’s jar-flames from a pocket and handed it to Albus to keep him warm.

_Are you OK?_ They signed.

     Albus nodded his head, but he still looked a little upset. Teddy touched their forefinger to their shoulder diagonally, and then lowered their hand horizontally. _Why are you sad?_

     Albus’ mouth turned down, and then he signed a single word. _Lonely_.

     Teddy put their hand on Albus’ shoulder. He had such a large family, but communicating anything was hard work, and keeping up with what was going on socially was even more difficult. Albus couldn’t hear a joke, he could only see that he had missed something everyone else was enjoying together when the people around him began to laugh. Things had gotten better since the family had started trying out sign language, but Albus still got frustrated at times.

_I have an idea,_ Teddy signed, pointing at themself, drawing their hand down into a point and then flicking their fingers behind their head like a light-bulb. Albus looked back, his eyes dark and expectant.

     His godsibling drew a crumpled sheet of paper from their coat and handed it over. “Hearing Aids: A Guide for the Hearing Impaired” read the title.

_What’s this?_ Albus waved his forefinger from side to side and then indicated the piece of paper. It looked as if it had been torn from a textbook of some kind. The rest of the print was too small to read properly in the gentle lighting.

     Teddy thought for a moment, and then realised that signing this might be rather complicated. They made the words appear on their skin in large dark letters, like a tattoo, and then bared their forearm for Albus to read.

_I went to visit my second cousin. He knew about muggle ways to help people to hear. You put these in your ears._ Teddy nodded down at the picture of the hearing aid. It was small and plastic-looking, with a clear wire extending from a coloured mould. They switched back to signing.

_Would you like to try it?_

     Albus looked so excited that Teddy thought he might cry. _Will it help me to talk to people?_ He asked with his hands.

_I think so_ , replied Teddy, pointing at themself, their head and then bringing down one hand in a slicing motion onto their other palm.

     The dark haired boy nodded, tentatively, and smiled. _I’d like that_.

_We’ll talk to Harry about it later, then_ , signed Teddy. They changed the subject to something Albus had enjoyed with them before: star-gazing. _Can you see Orion hunting in the sky?_

     Albus scanned the sky. _Where again_? He asked, circling his open, upturned hands in front of him and then shaking two fingers.

     Teddy pointed out the constellation. _Can you see it now?_ They tapped their nose with a curled finger, pointed at Albus, indicated their eyes and then the stars above, and bobbed both palms before their chest.

     Next to them, Albus signed back, _oh yes!_ He leaned his head on their arm, and snuggled closer. Teddy grinned, enclosed the child in their arms, and murmured the words,      “Merry Christmas Alby”, into his black hair.

     Albus did not hear them, but it didn’t matter; he was busy smiling at the stars.


	6. Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19 Years Later - from a different perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to echo the original chapter and not deviate from what Harry saw, whilst also staying true to my own plot changes from canon - hence we see Malfoy nod at someone (Harry!) Behind Scorpi's back - and Harry sees Malfoy with Astoria and Scorpi.

** (Scorpius) Chapter 6, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters **

            “… _Mother_?” Scorpius choked in shock. Astoria looked just as he remembered. She had vaporised, ghost-like, from the thick clouds of smoke clogging the platform only seconds before.

     His father was staring at her, open-mouthed and voiceless, but whether from surprise, rage or sadness, Scorpi could not tell.

     “I – I came to see you off…” Her voice stuttered and faltered as she stumbled over the sentence.

     “You have no right to be here.” Draco hissed under his breath. Scorpius had never seen his father look so coldly at anyone before. “You left. This is not fair on Scorpi. You need to go.”

     “No, it’s OK, dad,” he slipped in quickly, with a tentative, placating smile. He turned to his mother.

     “Hey”, he said, quietly. The sound was almost lost in the tumult of noise around them, but his mother somehow heard. Her eyes were glistening, he noticed, suddenly.

     “Scorpi… my boy…” She bent forwards and made as if to doff his chin lightly with one finger, but didn’t seem quite able to follow through with these intentions. Her hand hovered between them, awkward in its uncertainty.

     Scorpi had no idea what to say, so he simply stepped forwards and hugged her. Over his shoulder, his father looked away, nodding tensely but politely at someone behind him. The gesture was missed by Scorpius, who was wrapped up in his mother’s embrace for the first time in five years.

     Her coat smelled of shoe polish, expensive perfume, and _mum_ , that indescribable smell which was hers, and hers alone. Scorpius breathed in deeply until her scent felt like it was infused with his very soul.

     “I missed you” he whispered to her. Astoria’s resolve broke like a dam at this, and she began to weep openly. Her grief and guilt spilled like a burst reservoir onto his little blond head.

     “I missed you too,” she sobbed back. “I missed you too”.

     Steam began to issue voluptuously from the train and the engines whirred into life.

     “Scorpi!” His father said in panic. Scorpi bounced onto the train, leaning out of the window to hug Draco goodbye.  He looked extremely worried now that the moment of parting was upon them.

     “It’s OK dad, don’t worry, I’ll be fine”

     “I know, you’ll be great, Scorpi. You show them!”

     “Oh, Dad?” Scorpi had to shout now, the noise of the train and families yelling goodbyes had grown very loud. Malfoy ran alongside the train to hear him.

     “Thanks! Thanks for everything. See you-” but his sentence was bitten off as the tunnel engulfed the train.

 

      “at Christmas”, he finished quietly to himself, and he turned to find a carriage.


	7. The Squib and the Squid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus loses something precious and Scorpius decides to drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cn/TW: mention of water, especially with regard to drowning  
> joke with biological essentialism (sorry but they are 11 so super immature and not aware of trans culture etc)  
> ableist language with regard to mental health (N*tt*r-slur, use of the term 'insane' in a non medical context) - Albus being generally judgy (why Albus?)
> 
> Yeah apologies for the above, I'll probably re write it if this is bothering anyone *love to anyone still reading this after 6 chapters - thank you for your time*

** Chapter 7: Diving in at the Deep End **

     The little first-years huddled like penguins into their thick cloaks as the boats beneath them sliced through the cut-glass surface of the lake. It might have been calm – there was not a breath of wind – but it was cold, and bitingly so.

     Upon the crest of the frost-crackled grass hill, and framed by moon-licked mountains, the sprawling hulk of an enormous castle yawned far above them. Albus felt like he was being delivered up to some great stone beast on a floating wooden platter. Even the familiar bulk of Hagrid several boats ahead could not completely settle the feeling of panic welling in his stomach and making him feel legless.

_“What if I am in Slytherin?”_

     His ears were ringing, though whether with cold or from adrenaline, he couldn’t tell. A pale boy sat in front of Rose and himself. In the starlight, his hair shone a liquid silver-white. He kept looking about, wide-eyed and positively sparkling with glee. His propensity to lean dangerously far over the side and look into the depths of the lake was not helping Albus’ creeping nausea one bit. He felt uneasy.

The night was still.

Too still.

    The very air seemed frozen in place and there was a silence deep as darkness beneath the soft bobbing of the oar-less boats upon the water.

    From the corner of his eye, Albus noticed ripples beginning to segue across the lake surface to the right of the small fleet.

    This movement was not missed by the blonde boy. He gripped the side of the boat once more, stretching to gaze and point.

   “I’m freezing my bloody nuts off here,” Rose signed and complained loudly in his left ear. His left hearing-aid began to whistle more persistently.

    “You don’t have any nuts!” returned Albus with a small smile.

    “You been looking?” She grinned back.

    The ripples widened.

 

     And several things happened at once.

     

     Albus’ hearing-aids exploded with sound and sparks and pain. He wrenched them out, gasping, and watched in dismay as one flew from his fingers and slipped into the black waters.

     “No!” He cried, grasping for it, and found himself pulled back just in time by Rose.

     “It’s the Giant Squid!” Yelled the blonde boy jubilantly, and launched himself into the water. Everybody began to scream, and the boat he’d just left very nearly capsized. Hagrid’s gruff tone could be discerned over the sudden mayhem.

      “What the heck do you think you’re doing? Oy! Get back ‘ere! You’ll drown or freeze!”

     “Merlin’s soggy knickers” thought Albus, watching agape as the pale boy sank like a stone. His head was visible for a moment, glimmering eerily like a submerged moon, before the black belly of the lake swallowed him whole.

    “Blast – blast – Malfoy – Er-” Hagrid began to swear and panic, his great hands pulling tufts from his greying beard.

     “Jump in and save him, Hagrid!” Rose called helpfully, and he nodded.

     “Righ’ y’are!”

     He pulled off his enormous overcoat and buried a nearby boatful of children under it. They peered out, aghast.

     “Yer not gonna drown yerself on my watch, boy!” He roared, and jumped in after the Malfoy boy. The resulting wave drenched the shocked onlookers, many of whom had been staring with their mouths open, and subsequently had to spit out large quantities of foul-tasting water.

    _(“gross,” muttered Rose.)_

     The dark shape of Hagrid pulled something that looked remarkably like a pink umbrella from his pocket and dived down, disappearing too.

     They waited with bated breath.

 

One minute.

 

Two.

 

     “He’s dead”, Rose whispered, fingers clutching her mouth.

     “No he’s not!” Replied a copper-haired boy who was peering intently at where Hagrid had just been.

     “He is,” Rose insisted. “It’s freezing that water. And there’s all sorts in this lake. My uncle said there are merpeople with spears and everything”.

     “He’s not dead! He’s there! They’re there!” The shouts of relief rang out across the open space and the echoes seemed to bounce triumphantly off sky and water alike.

     Sure enough, a sopping wet Hagrid had broken through the surface. He threw the drenched boy he grasped in his hands back onto his boat like a rag doll. He landed with a wet squelch upon the copper-haired boy’s lap. To their utter amazement, the rest of the first years saw that he was giggling.

     Hagrid on the other hand was scowling so deeply that he was in danger of permanently knitting his bushy brows together. It took him seven attempts to pull his weight back onto his own boat (which then sank a good five inches).

     “Think it’s funny do yer?” He growled.

     “I saw the squid!” Beamed the boy. “I touched the Giant Squid! It was amazing!”

     Several other first-years, including a girl in a Hijab looked awestruck at this, and demanded details immediately. By the time that they reached the opposite shore, Malfoy had regaled his tale at least three times and answered twenty or so excited questions.

     Albus hadn’t asked any. He had concluded that the blonde boy was entirely insane and to be avoided at all costs. He made to exchange glances with Rose, but she was busy staring at him in utter confusion, a look of incredulity etched onto her features.

     “Nutter” she said, none too quietly.

     Albus had to agree.


	8. An Unexpected Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sorting Ceremony contains surprises for some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albus being a judgy so and so again.

** Chapter 8: An Unexpected Sorting **

            Albus shivered and rubbed his shoulders. The rest of the first-years huddled rather closely together for warmth, but Albus kept to himself as he always did when worried about something.

     “What if I am in Slytherin?” He’d asked his dad on the platform, earlier. Dad hadn’t cared in the slightest of course. Albus knew his family would love him whatever house he was sorted in, but he couldn’t help it – the thought of being the great Harry Potter’s Slytherin son gave him the goosewibbles. What if James was right, and he really was cunning, selfish, ambitious before he was brave, kind, or clever? What if there was something dark and horrible in him, and the hat would tell him he belonged in the house which had spawned Voldemort and all his followers? He might be able to choose which house he’d be in, but Albus would always know that the hat had looked deep inside him and seen a cowardly, amoral Slytherin.

     He bit his nails voraciously as he waited to be sorted, looking around him. Despite his fears, Albus couldn’t help but acknowledge how truly beautiful the Great Hall was. The room was arched, Cathedral-like, and the ceiling was beyond imagining, with the depths of the galaxies belching across it in inky swirls. He caught sight of Orion glittering above the Hufflepuff table and smiled to himself. So _that_ was why Teddy liked it so much…

      Four tables of black-clad students stared up at the first years, many pointing and whispering behind their hands. He noticed that this attention was aimed mostly at himself and the grinning blonde boy three people ahead of him in the line. Albus peered at him curiously, wondering why he didn’t seem nervous at all. He was dripping wet from his escapade with the squid.

     The line inched forwards, one by one. He watched various first-years being greeted by their houses with smiles and applause. The Hufflepuffs hugged the three students they were given, one of whom was the copper-haired boy, and the Gryffindors roared, stamped and stood up when an Indian girl with long braids, two brown-haired white boys and the girl with a hijab were sorted into their house. Two more students were sorted into Ravenclaw, three into Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and then it was the pale, blonde boy’s turn. He positively leapt onto the stool in eagerness, and the hat fell down to his nose. All that could be seen under the brim was his wide, white smile. A minute later, he ran to join the Slytherins, almost skipping with excitement. Albus wondered again whether he was totally sane.

     As the number of first years yet to be sorted decreased, Albus hoped someone would poke him when his name was called. He might not hear professor McGonagall, after all, but he needn’t have worried. When his turn came, she took care to look right at him, and beckoned with one hand as her lips formed his name. Albus was grateful for this, even as he felt his stomach drop sickeningly. The few steps to the hat seemed to take an age.

     “oh, hello there” whispered a silky voice in his head. It was deep, self-assured and rather suggestive; but it was not these qualities which made Albus nearly jump off the stool in shock.

      “I – I can hear you!” He said. “Clearly – you’re so clear? Is this what voices usually sound like?” He was suddenly aware that his speech, in comparison, was slurred and lisped on certain letters. This was something he had never realised before.

      “Why yes. I’m speaking directly into your mind, young mister Potter, rather than through your ears. Now, on with your sorting, eh? I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’ve been wondering – are you like your father?”

     Albus waited with bated breath.

     “I told him he didn’t have a bad mind. Plenty of courage, too. Your brother was the same. No decision with him, really. Spontaneous, brave, heroic, yes he was a Gryffindor from his head to his toes, but you… you are more difficult”, the hat drawled.

     “You’re intelligent, there’s no doubt about it. Ambition, you want to prove you’re not just your father’s son. Hmm… patience, plenty of that… Creativity, yes, you’ll do brilliant things with what you’ve been given. You’re not a Gryffindor, though. That much is clear. Far too gentle. You just don’t have the boldness and the anger – not that that’s a bad thing of course. Too much chivalry and recklessness can rather give one a headache. No, not a Gryffindor at all…”

     Albus felt numb. He made as if to get off the stool early, but the hat cried out,

     “Wait, wait, wait, my boy, where are you going? I’ve not sorted you yet! Perhaps I take back what I said about patience… but I’ve come to my decision! You’re in –”

 

     (there was a rather nasty silence, in which Albus could feel his heart thumping)

 

     “RAVENCLAW!” The last word vibrated both inside his head and through his skull, so he knew it had been shouted for the whole hall to hear.

     Ravenclaw? _Ravenclaw_!

     The table with blue badges and ties cheered as Albus scrambled over to them, desperate to sit down in case his legs gave way. His face ached from smiling so widely. _Ravenclaw_. He might not be a mighty lion, but at least he wasn’t a snake in the grass. He wasn’t a blemish on his father’s name. He wasn’t famous Harry Potter’s awkward Slytherin son.

     Albus was so happy that he missed the next few students to be sorted, and only focussed again when Rose’s unruly mane of hair was buried under the hat. She became a Gryffindor. As James high-fived her, and Victoire seized her in a hug, Albus felt a little twinge of regret. It would have been nice to have been sorted with Rose. Then again, this meant he wasn’t in James’ house, and he certainly wouldn’t have to share more space than was necessary with his annoying older brother whilst here.

     Albus felt warm, happy and content as he tucked into his dinner, watching those around him. He caught a few words of the conversations nearest him, but the Great Hall, especially when full, just wasn’t built to accommodate hearing-impaired people. He didn’t care, though. There would be plenty of time for making friends later. For now, he would enjoy the food (which was wonderful), and the feeling of relief at not being sorted into Slytherin.


	9. Wingardium Leviosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus struggles in the classroom. Scorpius is a Good Smol. James is an ejit, let's be real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cn - slur for disabled person used (by a bullying twat)
> 
> I'm not super happy with the quality of the writing in this chapter - but since I'm trying to upload every other day ish and it's now been two days I'll upload and revise it later :)
> 
> *The classes are usually made up of all the houses instead of two at a time - the war wiped out half the wizarding population of Britain (and a fair few muggles too) so the generation following the war is smaller than previous ones. I'd imagine there was a baby boom soon after, though, so the numbers will get back on track in time. :)

**Chapter 9;** **Wingardium** **Leviosa**  

     The classroom was awash with late summer sunlight. It hung low in the sky, and prickled at the edges of the pupils’ eyes as they tried to listen to the squat little Flitwick, who seemed impossibly old as he teetered atop a tower of books. He was explaining that he wanted everyone to have managed to make their feather float by the end of the lesson.  

    ‘Everyone’ did not include Scorpius, of course, who was at the back, buried in a book about the theory of transfiguration for beginners. With his usual slice and a half of optimism, however, he didn't seem to mind too much. After all those years of fighting for his place in the magical world, after everything his dad had done to get him into Hogwarts, he was finally _here_. No-body could take that away from him now. 

     Besides, it was only in Charms and Transfiguration that he was reduced to reading theoretical books. That wasn’t bad for someone like him. Not bad at all. He grinned into the dusty yellowed pages, and immersed himself in the philosophical musings of the author about the ethics of transfiguring live creatures.  

    Five rows in front of him, Albus Potter was growing increasingly frustrated. His feather had done nothing but sit stubbornly on his desk.  

     “Wingardium levioda, wingardium levioda, wingardium levioda!” He intoned over and over, his wand movements becoming more and more erratic. His cousin, Rose rolled her eyes and caught his wrist before he took someone’s eye out. She sat in Albus' classes with him, even though she was in Gryffindor, in order to translate the lessons into sign language. 

     “It’s levioSa, not levioda” she tried to explain, enunciating the syllables, a frown visible underneath her affro. 

     “That’s what I said!” Albus groaned.  

     “Mr Potter, would you like some help with your levitation charm?” Flitwick called out, loudly. He toppled down from his perch and clambered up a chair near Albus.  

     “Now, now, what seems to be the problem? There’s really no need to get so worked up about a little feather, Mr Potter”. He smiled kindly. “Remember, swish and flick” (the little wizard demonstrated the movement) “and it’s Wingardium LevioSa. You try now, go on.” 

     Albus attempted the charm again, concentrating carefully on his swishing and flicking and upon his pronunciation. His tongue, however, just didn't seem able to wrap itself around the sounds.  

     “I can’t hear the difference in what you’re telling me to say” he said, miserably.  

     “Wingardium levioSa” repeated the professor. 

     “Wingardium levioda, wingardium levioda” Albus tried. Scorpius noted that his speech was slurred and thick. He wondered if he had learning difficulties.  

     Around the black-haired boy, the rest of the class had begun to listen in. A couple of Gryffindors in the corner were exchanging amused titters. Albus did sound funny, but all Scorpius could see as he peered surreptitiously over his book was the stricken expression marring Albus’ face. 

     He spent the rest of the lesson watching Albus' rigid shoulders as he bent determinedly over his recalcitrant feather. His neck and ears had flushed beetroot-red. When the bell finally rang, he gathered his possessions slowly, and hovered by professor Flitwick’s desk. Rose glanced back, but carried on when her friend, the girl in the hijab who was called Amina, gestured at her impatiently.   

     “Can I help you, Albus?” Professor Flitwick asked, squeakily.

     “Sir, I was wondering if you had been able to do anything about the hearing aids?” Albus replied. 

     Scorpius found himself dawdling out of curiosity. So Albus used hearing aids, did he? Scorpius wanted to ask him all about them suddenly. He had read a little about them in the past, but he had never seen one. 

     “I’m afraid not, Albus. Muggle technology and magic are simply incompatible. No charm that I have tried has had any effect. The magical and muggle worlds cannot mix.” Albus dipped his head.  

     "I'll return your remaining one to you. I'm afraid there's no point retrieving the other, as it simply wouldn't work anymore – not after so long in the lake, or indeed anywhere in the vicinity of Hogwarts." Professor Flitwick handed a small, hooked piece of plastic to Albus. 

     “Thank you, sir” he said, his voice even more muffled, as if he was holding back tears. He rushed past Scorpius without seeing him, and banged the door on his way out. Scorpius looked after him thoughtfully, waved to Professor Flitwick, and then left. 

    He managed to catch up with Albus at the end of the Charms corridor. 

     "Hey." 

     Albus continued walking, lost in thought.  

     "Hey, um, Albus?" He touched his shoulder. Albus whipped around, somewhat startled. 

     Scorpius paused. Albus was actually very good-looking up close. He hadn't noticed before. And right now, his green eyes were wide with surprise, and inches from Scorpius' face. 

     "Um - " but whatever he was about to say was lost when a ball of parchment hit Albus in the side of the head. They both turned to face the culprit – one of the Gryffindors who had giggled in class earlier. Scorpius thought his name might have been Griff or something along those lines. He was tall for eleven, with brown hair, gilt at the tips and a rather large nose.  

   "Oh Uh wingardum lewioda, My name's Albus and I can't talk properly". The boy's voice rang out loudly in a caricature of Albus' slur. 

     "How on earth are you in Ravenclaw, Potter? You sound like you wouldn't be able to write your own name! Aren't you supposed to be the son of the guy who defeated You Know Who?" 

     Scorpius wasn't sure what made him do it.  

     "Leave off" he spat, marching forward and facing the taller boy down. "He's perfectly clever. I saw his beetle turn much more shiny than yours in Transfiguration, Griff. It's only certain letters he struggles to say."

     "OOO made friends with the Slytherin squib have you, Potter? So you're a traitor and a retard, then." Griffyn reached towards his pocket for his wand.

     Scorpius was on the boy in a moment, had his robes clutched in one hand, the other poised to strike. "Say that again". 

      "What the hell is going on here? Alby?" It was the older Potter boy. Scorpius had seen him around, usually trailed by a gaggle of admirers. He signed as he spoke. "What are you doing with _him_?" He eyed Scorpius with distaste. Scorpius felt himself flushing in anger. 

     Albus looked a little lost. 

     "Don't you know who his father is?" 

     Albus nodded. _I do._  

 _"_ don't let me catch you with this loser again, then." James muttered. Albus' hands balled into fists. He turned and walked in the opposite direction, disappearing into a blur of second years. 

     "That's right!" Griff called after him. "You run! There's a reason you aren't in Gryffindor, you coward!" 

     James rounded on him. "Hey. Leave off my brother, you prat. And you-" he turned to Scorpius. "You're not wanted. Bugger off."

     Scorpius didn’t answer him, but walked away after Albus. He must have begun to run, because he had already disappeared by the time Scorpius broke through the crowd at the end of the corridor, but he asked a passing sixth year if they had seen a dark-haired first year.  

     "He went that way", the sixth year replied, gesturing upwards, and adding, "he looked very upset". Scorpius rushed off in the direction they had indicated. It was lunch time now, so the corridors became less and less busy the further he climbed. He peered into disused classrooms and behind every unlocked door he found. Finally, he happened upon Albus at the top of a spiral staircase, with his head on his knees. 

      Scorpius sat down beside him, but didn’t say anything. He wasn't sure if Albus would be able to hear him if he did speak, and he was uncertain of what to say, anyway. After a moment, he drew a quill, ink and parchment from his satchel, and scrawled, 

     "hello. I am Scorpius Malfoy." He tried his best to write neatly. His father had always told him that his writing was nigh-on impossible to read – and for some strange reason, he wanted to impress Albus Potter. "I thought that your feather was floating a bit today", he scribbled as an afterthought, and slid the sheet across to Albus. 

     Albus smiled when he read that, his eyes lighting up. He brushed away a tear quickly,as if he didn't want Scorpius to know that it had been there.

     "Thank you Scorpius, but I think that you are just being kind. I am Albus", he replied, and handed the parchment back. 

     "Why are you on the floor here?" Scorpius wrote carefully. 

     "I can't get into the common room," Albus replied. He jerked his head at a rather pretentious looking statue which dominated the space on the wall nearby. "That's Rowena Ravenclaw. She tells you a riddle and if you answer correctly, you can enter. But I'm too worked up to think. I guess I'll have to stay here". 

Scorpius shook his head. "Come and have lunch with me," he asked. Albus hesitated. "You're Scorpius Malfoy, and I am Albus Potter," he wrote. "I can't."  

Scorpius sighed. "Ok. See you around." He scribbled back, and wandered away. Albus watched him leave, nibbling his lip. He almost called out to the blonde boy as he retreated down the stairs – but an echo of the disgust on James' face rose up in his mind, and he stayed silent. 


	10. Albus Smellyvus Poo-tter and the King of Turds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of the Golden Trio 2.0 
> 
> Thank you for all those still reading, giving me kudos, leaving comments. It really does make writing even more of a joy, and helps with my confidence :D
> 
> I'm not sure whether I love Albus or am entirely exasperated at him; maybe both?
> 
> Scorpius5eva tho

**Chapter 9;** **Albus** **Smellyvus** **Poo-** **ter** **and the King of the Turds**  

     How was it late September already? Scorpius could not understand where the time had flown. He had already been at Hogwarts for three whole weeks. Three weeks! That was nearly a month. It had been more than enough time for him to settle in, learn the way to his classes, the common room, and the Great Hall, and find a few sort-of friends. 

     He was, however, starkly aware of the fact that he was widely disliked. It was only his stubborn persistence in being cheerful and friendly that had earned him any company at all. To begin with, the Slytherins had been less than welcoming. Half of them because he was a squib, and the other half because his family had betrayed Voldemort, and their parents had been death-eaters. Many had relatives who were dead or imprisoned because of decisions made by his father and grandparents in that fateful last battle.  

     The Gryffindors were even worse than the Slytherins, and the Ravenclaws tended to be cliquey and competitive. He'd had a bit of luck chatting with them the first week or so, but since the teachers had returned their first few homework assignments (and he had come top in almost every single class) his popularity among the blue-clad students had deteriorated significantly. They clearly disliked being out-smarted by someone who couldn't use a wand at all. 

     Scorpius had found himself sitting with a group of Hufflepuffs more often than not. Though they had little in common, they were usually warm towards him, which was an improvement on members of the other houses. He supposed he might have been able to bring the Gryffindors around with time, and an extra dose of his natural charm - if only he hadn't annoyed Griff so much in the first week. Griff was loud, obnoxious, and well-liked for it by most of the other Gryffindors. In fact, the only people who didn't seem to like him were the Slytherins and Albus. 

     He found himself growing more lonely as the days went by. The Hufflepuffs he hung around with – dark-eyed Yee Hui Chua, goofy, round-faced Binni Aggravane, flick-haired Julina Finch-Fletchley and Rosina Yusuf, who moved like a flock of sparrows taking sudden flight (She was a dancer) - were kind to him, but were much closer with each other because they shared a house, and a common room at night. Scorpius was grateful that they allowed him to sit with them, but he still felt like an outsider among them. 

     Looking back, he supposed that he had felt that way most of his life. He had never truly been a part of the magical world, even as he grew up in it. Other wizarding families had shunned his father when Scorpius' status as a squib became public knowledge. They had refused to allow their children to play with him anymore, he remembered. At the time, it hadn't mattered so much. He'd had his father, and the peacocks, and there had been worlds of creatures to explore. 

     At Hogwarts, however, he was constantly surrounded by people who seemed to have friends as close as their blood relatives. People rarely traveled anywhere alone. In between classes, the corridors became a tumult of cheers and shouted messages to friends which rang above his head as he was pushed this way and that. In the Great Hall, little bands of students sat together and teased one another, whilst Scorpius watched them with more than a little envy. 

     But Scorpius Malfoy was nothing if not persistent and positive. He was determined to find friends, and friends he would find. He refused to lower the quality of his work simply because the Ravenclaws couldn't handle being beaten by a squib. He refused to be bullied by loud-mouthed, over-confident Gryffindors and their judgmental, over-tired misconceptions about Slytherin House and about his own family history. Scorpius would be happy here, and he would do it for his dad, who had fought so hard and so long for him. 

     The last Saturday in September found him mulling all of this over as he absent-mindedly watched the flecks of the players in red dart about, bird-like, over the faraway Quidditch pitch. It was just warm enough to justify sitting outside, and the birds were carolling an opera which could have stolen the hearts of sirens. He ignored the soft, hissing breeze which whispered of the cold winter to come, burying himself inside his coat and his fingers inside the book he was supposed to be reading. _One Hundred and One of the Rarest Magical Creatures – From the Crumple Horned_ _Snorcack_ _to the_ _Fizzlewit_ _Redwinger_ _,_ by Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander. He had finished it three days before, but he'd loved it so much he had wanted to read it all over again. His intentions had been somewhat disrupted by the distractions of the Gryffindor Quidditch team practicing for their next match, and by the stunning beauty of the school grounds.  

     Scorpius was just admiring a particularly dangerous-looking twisting dive by the keeper, Victoire Weasley, when his view of the pitch was broken by two figures walking in front of him. For a moment, he couldn't see who it was, since they were silhouetted against the bright sky – but then he recognised the dark skin and blossoming black hair of Rose Weasley, and the skinny, wind-whipped outline of Albus Potter. 

     "Oh no" He groaned inwardly. Things had been awkward since he had extended his hand to Albus in friendship and Albus had turned him down. Since then, Scorpius had made every effort to be civil, but to no avail. His smiles remained unrequited, and his efforts to make polite conversation, futile. He had even approached several Gryffindors who had been muttering cruel things about Albus and asked them to stop - but the youngest Potter boy did not see fit to return these same civilities to Scorpius. He refused to meet his eye in lessons, and had not said a word to him since their conversation in Ravenclaw Tower. Scorpius could understand why he was reluctant to be bosom friends with him – but he did think that common courtesy demanded a little more respect. Albus wasn't just being distant with him - he was being damn well rude. 

     He huffed to himself, and hugged his knees to his chest, hiding his face behind his book. Rose and Albus were speaking loudly, and signing with increasing energy. They appeared to be having an argument. Scorpius didn't want to listen (well maybe he did, just a tiny bit) but he had little choice. They were standing mere feet away, and were so engaged in their heated conversation that they had failed to notice him sitting there. 

    "Look, you can't just let them get away with this, Albus!" Rose was angry, her tone strained. "You are Albus Severus Potter. Your dad defeated the most evil wizard of all time in single combat! Your grandparents defied  that same wizard. Your brother is, well, _James_ \- and your mum is the most famous Quidditch player in Britain. You can't just sit down and take what those twats throw at you. You have to fight." 

     "I'm not my dad." Albus said, "and I'm not James. I'm sorry for that. I don't want to face Griff and the others down. It won't work, they won't just leave me alone like you say. I'm not brave or fierce, I'm not fantastic at magic or Quidditch. I just want to sit quietly without fighting. Please. Let me be." 

     "How can I let you be when they're treating you like that?" Rose demanded. "I'll hex that git again and again, but he'll keep at it until you stand up for yourself. It's the only way, Albus. Me and James can't stop him. Only you can." 

     "What's Griff done now?" Scorpius called out. He laughed when they both jumped.  

     "Eavesdropping, Malfoy?" Asked Rose, her nose inching up into the air, her face a picture of condescension. He was suddenly remembering that she had come a close second to him in a fair few classes, and probably hadn't taken too kindly to it. Perhaps this was a bad idea – but his big mouth had done its work and now he'd just have to make the best of it. 

     "I overheard. Unintentionally. And I want to know what Griff's been doing. He's a complete turd if you ask me." 

     "We _didn_ 't ask you", Rose said, but she was smiling in spite of herself. 

     "If you must know, he's been a total arse to Albus. As usual. He barely leaves him alone – I'm sure you've noticed. And ever since the disastrous flying lesson - " Rose glanced at Albus, who had suddenly become very interested in his shoes. 

     She was referring to their first flying lesson with the the teacher who had replaced Madam Hooch. Professor Daemeron had been young, enthusiastic and very good at explaining, but that hadn't stopped Albus from slipping off his broom and falling headfirst into his arms, his robes flapping wildly about his shoulders, and his skinny legs kicking frantically. In his panic, he had knocked out Daemeron's two front teeth, and utterly destroyed any hope that he might take after his parents in the area of Quidditch. The whole affair had been rather painful to watch, although Griff and his small band of scarlet-robed admirers seemed to have been entertained. 

     "Well," Rose continued. "After that, things have been much worse. He's taken to pranks. Perhaps they were just fun at first, but they're getting spiteful. And Albus won't do anything about it. I've just earned myself two weeks of detention because Professor McGonagall saw me throw my wart potion over him, and she wouldn't back down, even though I explained he didn't look any different covered in warts from head to toe. I could have sworn she almost grinned, though... Anyway. After the wart stunt, he went quiet for a bit – until this morning, when he bewitched Albus' hat to sing "Albus Smellyvus Poo-tter how did he get through-ter the clever house, when he's wet as a mouse? His father's ashamed and his hearing is maimed, that Albus Smellyvus Poo-tter" in that awful voice he does. And Albus of course couldn't hear it, and put it on. He couldn’t understand why everyone was smirking."  

     Rose paused. "I would have punched his smug face, but McGonagall was watching me. She said she'd stop me going to watch Quidditch matches if there was any more trouble." 

     She talked a lot, Scorpius thought, but this realisation was followed by a more important one: she's talking a lot- _to me_.  

     "I'm sure we can figure something out." He replied. "Slytherins are notoriously cunning aren't they? Sounds like you could use my help in coming up with a plan..." 

     "What, sneak revenge?" Rose asked, her eyes creasing. She sat down on the grass next to him. Albus tagged behind her, somewhat more reluctant. "I don't know. I was kind of thinking of challenging him to a duel one lunchtime, out behind Hagrid's hut so McGonagall won't interrupt. I can beat him. I know I can." 

     "I'm sure you can," nodded Scorpius, "but it's fairly likely that way will get you both into trouble. You won't be able to hide the fact that you would both have been duelling. I suggest we play a prank on Griff, but we don't openly own the prank. He will know its something to do with Albus, but he won't have evidence to convict us with in front of teachers – and that way, Albus won't have to face him head-on. We can all work together on it. Everyone wins – Albus doesn't have to duel him, Rose, you don't get into trouble, Griff will stop being horrible to Albus, we can all have a laugh over it..."  

 _A_ _nd I'll have gained friends_ , he thought, hopefully. 

     Rose bobbed her head, her coils bouncing. "Ok." She agreed. "I'm in. Albus?" 

     He looked uncertainly at the two of them for a moment, at the determination creeping across Rose's face, and the mischievous joy radiating from Scorpius', and then conceded defeat. He nodded.  

     "That's that, then!" Scorpius grinned, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get down to work as evil masterminds in the downfall of the Great Griff, King of Turds!"  

 

     They all giggled. 


	11. Whispers in the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio discuss Griff and Charms... And Hermione's shiny butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is either a short filler chapter or half an actual chapter so sorry D: The next one will contain hinted-at prank.

** Chapter 11: Whispers in the Library **

  
       They were cloistered in the library again. At least it was warm, Scorpius reflected. This was the only problem with his two best friends; they were in different houses, which made finding a shared place to spend time together difficult. Scorpius had tried to convince them to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room, but Albus had been hesitant to do so. Rose, on the other hand, had been excited by the prospect.

  
      "Is it true everything is made of snakeskin and diamonds and the walls are made of silver, and they make new students drink vodka and ice with a drop of snake venom as an initiation ritual?" She asked, rather breathlessly.

     Scorpius laughed.

     "The walls are grey stone, like the potions dungeon," he replied, "and the only diamonds are the people."

He winked at them. Albus chuckled.

      "As for the snake venom, it's not an initiation ritual – more of a tradition at parties for older students, or so I've heard. There hasn't been one yet this year because we haven't won a Quidditch match, thanks to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team beating us last week, and Hufflepuff the week before. Who told you all that? Whoever it was was having you on.”

  
      "Amina said her boyfriend had told her. He's a Slytherin third-year." Rose answered. "Sounds pretty dull to me. I think I'd have liked to try snake venom. I wonder if it stings your tongue..."

  
     "Gryffindors," Scorpius rolled his eyes in amused exasperation. "It's poisonous –it could literally kill you - and you want to drink it..."

  
     “We’re not the ones spiking alcohol with it”, countered Rose, playfully.

  
     Scorpius stuck his tongue out at her. He pulled out his book again, uncreasing the dog-ear he had folded into one page. Albus' eyes lit up when he read the title. He flapped his hands to get Scorpius' attention, and rummaged around in his bag, extracting from the chaos within a much newer copy of the same book.

  
Scorpius beamed.

  
     "Y-o-u l-i-k-e t-h-a-t b-o-o-k?"

     He spelled out. He had just about got the hang of the alphabet in British Sign Language, although he still fumbled over certain letters from time to time.

  
      Albus nodded shyly. "It's my favourite" he signed.

  
     Rose hadn’t been watching them. She had been squinting contemptuously at the shape of Griff two aisles down. The buffoon was snorting and capering about with his group of friends.

     "What are you talking about?"

     She asked, and then spied the matching books.

  
     "Oh yeah, I wouldn't pay attention to that, Scorpi. He'll read anything at all. Doesn't even mean he likes it, really. Hard to have a conversation with him sometimes because his nose is glued in a book. I always tell him, 'Albus, you've got to try to make an effort, I know socialising is hard, but being deaf isn’t an excuse. You can't just hide behind books’, do you know what I mean?"

  
     Scorpius frowned. "Actually, I think that Albus is alright how he is."

  
      "Oh, I didn't mean anything by that!" Rose hurriedly asserted.

  
     Albus (who was oblivious to the sudden tension) helpfully butted in with a change of subject.   
     "Have either of you finished the Charms homework?" He asked, hopefully. He had been struggling in this class in particular, and professor Flitwick, who was usually a patient and cheerful person, was reaching the end of his tether.

  
     “Nope. I read the whole textbook before school started, so I already know this stuff. I'd rather be out watching the Quidditch practices. Or, you know, sneaking rides on the school brooms, since we're not allowed our own. Anything but this dry old rot. Flitwick is nearly as past-it as Binns, and he’s been dead for yonks". Rose plucked distastefully at the almost-blank parchment of Charms homework in front of her.

  
     Albus turned to Scorpius. "They keep telling her she's nothing like her mum. It annoys the squashed turnips out of her."

  
     "squashed turnips?!" Scorpius laughed.

  
      "I couldn't think of anything else to say". Albus smiled, abashed.

  
     Rose rolled her eyes and snorted. "Apparently my mum was the brightest witch any of the professors had the joy to teach, and the sun shone out of her backside and lit up the entire castle and probably would have scared away half the dementors in Azkaban.”

  
      "A patron-arse?" Scorpius suggested, cheekily. The raucous laughter which followed this comment caused Madam Pince to swerve towards them and shriek in aggravation.

  
     "Sorry Ma'm. We'll keep it down," Scorpius assured her.

  
      "Cow". Rose muttered when she had stalked away. Albus’ eyes twinkled, silently.

  
     " _I've_ finished the homework, Albus," Scorpius informed him. "You can copy mine if it helps. Just make sure you wiggle the words about a bit so it sounds slightly different.”

  
      Albus looked immensely relieved.

     "Thank you!"

      He signed, patting his chin and lifting his fingers away again. Whilst he was scribbling away, Rose addressed Scorpius.

  
     "Have you come up with a plan, yet? Had any ideas about dealing with our Turdy dearest?"

       
      He winked, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

     "Indeed I have."

  
      She waited eagerly, fingertips poised under the soft lip of her chin, hands folded into her neck.

  
      "We'll get to planning it properly in a bit. Let Albus catch up writing first. I'm going to need both of you to help implement this, and your full attention.”

 

     Behind them, and blissfully unaware of his impending fate, Griff had begun to make rude farting noises with his armpits. Rose put her face in her hands.

  
     “Whatever you do,” she moaned, “just do it fast. I can't stand that idiot much longer.”

  
“Oh, don’t worry”, Scorpius smiled impishly. “We'll get him soon enough”.  



	12. An Apology

Dear fic readers,

Thank you so much for your wonderful comments <3 it's said a lot, but they really do keep me going.

I'm sorry the next update is so delayed. I intended to update every two days, but I have just started full time work, so it may have to be every three or four days instead.

I currently have one and a half new chapters waiting to be uploaded. They just need refining, so the update should occur soon! 

Also much has happened: my laptop has crashed, and I have to borrow mum's when she isn't using it, and I had a particularly bad episode with my mental health. Therefore the last update is a few days late. In general I will stick to schedule however :) 

In the words of worm tongue (lotr) "late is the hour this new chapter chooses to appear"....


	13. Hunter of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose sneaks into the boys' dormitory.

    **Chapter 12 - Hunter of the Night, Rose.**

      Rose crept forward, her breathing hitching in excitement. She felt like a hunter of the night – and before her crouching form, helpless and unaware, four boy-bodies slept in soft quilts of red and gold. She grinned, cat-like, her teeth gleaming in the wan moonlight which filtered gently through the arched tower window.

  
     There lay her prize; Griffyn Myers, snuffling as he dreamed. His mouth was slightly open, his hair arrayed across the pillow like the spray of a golden wave. One freckled arm was flung carelessly across his face, his usual watch glittering dimly upon it. She paused to contemplate him for a moment, feeling the power of the moment course through her veins, before she turned to the old chest of drawers beside his bed.

  
     The first drawer was filled with a chaos of miscellaneous objects. Sweet wrappers which had stuck to school books covered a small mountain of well-thumbed Quidditch magazines, Wizard Shampoo (with essence of Unicorn hair, for a glorious mane) and mouldy-looking spare gob stones. She closed it slowly, carefully.

  
     The second drawer down was full of potions ingredients and equipment, but the third was more interesting. It contained nothing but a wooden box with an intricately carved lid. Fantastic creatures danced around its borders. It looked very old and very precious. Even though it was not what she was looking for, she paused in spite of herself. Rose slid her fingers around its edges, feeling for a lock or clasp. The hinges were either stuck or it was locked with magic, she concluded after struggling silently with it for several moments. This did not deter her. She was the first-born child of Hermione Granger, after all.  
“alohomora” she hissed, quietly, quietly. The lid came free with a small pop. She glanced up at Griff, but his deep breathing continued uninterrupted.

  
      _What did he want to hide?_

  
     She peered curiously inside, but was disappointed to find it almost empty. There was nothing but a curl of hair, which looked to be about the same colour as Griff’s (although the darkness made it hard to be sure) and a small picture, clearly drawn by a young child. It was of a boy and a girl holding hands beside a large tree, and surrounded by pink crayon hearts. “Griff” was scrawled above the boy’s head, and “Luci” above the girl’s. She frowned. This did not seem like the sort of thing the Griff she knew would keep. She placed the items back and shut the lid, sealing it with a spell. Then she turned to the the last drawer.

  
     “aha!” She murmured triumphantly, emptying the contents into the bag she had brought. At the doorway, she looked back at Griff again. He didn't look half as spiteful when he was asleep. In fact, his vulnerability made him seem much more human, somehow. He was harder to hate. Rose shook her head. This was Griff Myers, the boy who teased Albus and swore at Scorpius, who told her she smelled and pulled her hair four times a day. He was an idiot, and he would get what was coming to him. She turned, and vanished down the stairs, clutching her bag of stolen items to her chest.


	14. Family History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the prank. The trio bond in a sleepover in the Slytherin Common Room and share stories about their parents. Scorpi fangirls over Luna (who wouldn't?)

      **Chapter 14:** **Family Histories**

     Albus fiddled with the clasp of his cloak as he waited for Rose to re-emerge from Gryffindor Tower. What was taking her so long? She only had to go upstairs, grab the stuff and then come back again. Had she been caught? Was she even now facing down four angry Gryffindor boys, headed by Griff?  

     "Stop worrying", Scorpius grinned. "She'll be fine. This is Rose Weasley we're talking about."  

     "I wasn't worrying," Albus protested. But Scorpius simply rolled his eyes, amused.  

     "Right." He signed. 

     Was it that obvious? Albus wondered. He made a conscious effort to still his fidgeting.  

     "And now you're worried that you look worried..." Scorpius informed him. He was correct, of course. Annoyingly so. 

     "How did you know?" 

     "You look like you don't know how to stand now. You want to appear calm but you're not quite sure how to." Scorpius smiled gently. "It's OK, Albus. She'll be out soon -" 

     Rose tumbled through the portrait hole and landed, sprawling, on top of them. 

     "Oops", she grimaced as they disentangled themselves. 

     "Graceful", Scorpius commented, which earned him a painful-looking kick. He let out a muffled "oof" as Rose's foot connected with his shin.  

     "Shhh!" She muttered. "I got what we wanted." She held up the bag stuffed full of the smuggled gear, and shook it in their faces. Albus put his thumbs up. _Well done_. 

     Scorpius laughed and whooped quietly.  "We'd better get going, then."  

     They divided the cargo between them, and split up as they had planned. Forty minutes later, Scorpius found Rose waiting for him outside the Slytherin dungeon as agreed.  

     "Where's Albus?" He asked. Rose shrugged, then pointed behind him. Albus was puffing around the corner, his robes bulging with something. 

     "what have you got there?" Asked Scorpius, but the answer became evident when a small white head popped up from the neck of Albus' robes.  

     "My ferret," he signed, "he gets nervous if I leave him alone too long". 

     Scorpius smiled in excitement. "I love animals!" He told them. "What's your ferret's name?" For some reason, Albus looked embarrassed and hesitated. 

     "Um..." 

     "He's called Malfoy." Rose butted in.  

     "you what?" 

     "My dad, Albus' Uncle Ron bought him for Albus on the condition that he named him Malfoy... after something that happened to your dad when our parents were at school." 

     "What happened? I haven't heard this story!" Scorpius asked them, intrigued.  

     "Well, your dad tried to attack Albus' dad when his back was turned. But then Professor Moody – who was actually a death eater in disguise - turned your dad into a white ferret and bounced him up and down. My dad thought this was hilarious and years later bought little Malfoy here for Albus." Rose said. 

     "I can rename him", Albus suggested, biting his lip. 

     "It's OK", Scorpius reassured him. "I don't mind. Besides it is an honour to share a name with such a beautiful little beastie". He winked at Malfoy, who was regarding him with large, dark eyes. 

     "Come on. Let's get inside. It wouldn't do to be caught now, when everything has been successful!" Rose pulled her robe-hood over her face, and switched her tie for a green one, which Scorpius had filched from the Slytherin lost property box. Albus did the same, and they both walked behind Scorpius as he approached the hidden entrance in the grey stone wall. 

     "Salazar", he whispered, on tenterhooks, and watched in amazed relief as the passageway opened with a hiss. He led the other two through quickly. 

     The walls were rounded, and seemed to stoop towards them, giving them the impression of entering a dark stone womb. The soft sounds of water could be discerned from somewhere above them, and expensive-looking black couches perched before a fire, which licked bleakly at the hearth under an ornate silver fireplace. Dark-stained wooden furniture stood stiffly about the room, and the whole place was encased in a dim, verdant glow from the spherical ceiling lamps. Due to the lateness of the hour, it was deserted. They plopped themselves down on the black, studded sofas. Rose and Albus peered about. 

     "I didn't think that would work!" Scorpius said, breathing out. "No one from another house has entered here for seven hundred years!"   

     "Actually", said Rose, "our dads came in here. But that's a story for another day..." She stretched herself out over her sofa like a cat, burrowing into the padded seat.  

     Scorpius raised his eyebrows. "You have a lot of stories." 

     "Don’t you?" Albus asked him. 

     "No – my dad doesn't like to talk about the past. Understandably, I suppose. From what I can gather, the Malfoys were hardly the heroes of the Great War." 

    Rose looked uncomfortable, Albus sympathetic. "And you – you're not ashamed of your family, are you?" He asked. 

    "I'm not ashamed of my _dad_." Scorpius replied."I can't speak to who he was in the past or what he did then, but he has given up everything for me. I couldn't have asked for a better father... The rest of my family, though... I never really met my grandfather. Things were difficult between him and my dad. I think he blamed him for a lot of what happened."  

     "You don't need to be ashamed of your family history, Scorpius", Albus said quietly, looking at him intently. "Don't you know that without them, Voldemort would not have been defeated? My dad would have been killed, and I wouldn't exist. Your grandmother lied to the most powerful dark wizard of all time. She told him Harry Potter was dead when he wasn't." 

    "What?" Scorpius' jaw was slack, his eyes wide.  

     "You never knew?" 

   "My dad doesn't talk about the past... and my grandmother follows suit. She knows it's hard for him. But she – she was a death-eater – why did she lie?" 

     "To save your dad." Albus replied. "The Malfoys are fiercely loyal to their own. Without that loyalty, all would be lost. We'd still be ruled by Voldemort." 

   Scorpius had to sit and think about that for a moment. 

   "Oh." He said. 

     "It's bloody cold in here, Malfoy" Rose moaned, breaking the moment.  

      "We are under the lake", Scorpius explained.  

    "The lake?!" Albus asked. "Is it safe? It won't collapse and drown us?" 

     "Slytherins have lived here for thousands of years... I doubt it will crumble now. Besides – it's a good thing. Sometimes the squid wombles by to say hello. You can see him out of that window." 

     "How do you know the squid's a 'he'?" Rose fired up. 

     "Well, the Giant Squid had a hectocotylus – a kind of long tentacle thing, as well as all the normal arm tentacles. So he's a he. I think." Scorpius said. 

     "Are you going to be a magizoologist or a wizard naturalist?" Albus asked him interestedly. "My sister is named after Luna Lovegood, the famous one who wrote the book we're both reading." 

     "YOU KNOW LUNA LOVEGOOD?" Scorpius squeaked. "WHAT IS SHE LIKE? CAN I MEET HER? WHERE DOES SHE LIVE? IS SHE STILL ADVENTURING? DO YOU KNOW ROLF? HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME THIS? DOES SHE TALK TO YOU ABOUT HER WORK? DID YOU KNOW SHE'S DISCOVERED 118 NEW SPECIES AND SHE'S NOT EVEN THAT OLD YET? PLEASE LET ME MEET HER? SHE'S THE FEMALE MAGICAL DAVID ATTENBOROUGH; AAAAAAA, OH WOW, OH WOW!" Rose and Albus looked at him, bemused.      

   "I, er, might be a big fan of hers?" He offered as an explanation, clearing his throat softly. 

    "We noticed," Rose answered dryly with an amused smile. "She's a good friend of our parents'. She's nutty as squirrel poo, but perfectly lovely. I don't like her husband Rolf as much. He seems  to  want to control her behaviour in public. She can be a bit exuberant I suppose. She likes to wear hats to special occasions. She's  got a giant lion hat which roars. I nicked it as a kid and paraded round the house with it. Mum went mad and made me give it back to her."  

     "You can meet her, Scorpius. I'm writing to dad to ask if you can stay over ours this Christmas. That is, if you'd like to?" Albus asked tentatively. "Luna is visiting us Christmas Eve." 

     Scorpius grinned. He had never wanted anything more, except perhaps his place at Hogwarts. Then his thoughts wandered to his father. His grandmother usually spent Christmas day with his grandfather, which would mean that, without him there, his dad would be left alone. The smile slipped off his face like slime off a wall. "I... can't." He said, sadly. 

     "Oh... OK." Albus said. 

     "I want to though." 

     "It's alright Scorpi. You don’t have to explain." Albus signed. "It was just a suggestion." 

     Rose yawned widely. "Since it's now three AM and I am cream crackered, I'm going to sleep", she announced. "Good night suckers. Happy pranking." She rolled over, conjuring three blankets and burying herself in one. The other two fell lightly on top of the two boys.  

   "Night, Albus" Scorpius signed. In the dim light he could make out a small smile on his friend's face. 

     "Night, Scorpius", he signed back, and he closed his eyes. 

*** 

      The early morning light broke softly, sifting down to where they lay through the depths of the lake. Scorpius was woken by Malfoy the ferret nibbling his face as he slept.  

    "Hello fellow" he mumbled.  

     He looked up. Albus was watching him, curled on the sofa, his arm folded under his head. The green-white lamps turned his hair a flickering, blended-coal colour. The edges of his face and the pupils of his eyes pooled like painted shadows. He was an artwork, Scorpius thought, and then he wondered where that thought had sprung from. 

     "He doesn't usually like people" Albus signed, motioning to the ferret on Scorpius' chest. "He's shy." 

     "Like you?" Scorpius asked. He regretted it, as Albus immediately looked upset. 

      "Hey, it's not a bad thing".  

     Albus simply looked. 

     "It's not a bad thing at all. It means when you do give your friendship, it means more. It's more precious. And you being quiet... I like it. It gives me space to think. It's peaceful."  

     Albus considered this for a moment. 

     "Thank you," he signed. 

     Scorpius smiled.  

     "Been up long?" He asked. Albus shook his head. Rose stirred and shifted, slowly stretching, opening eyes still dark with sleep.  

     "What are you two nobbies talking about?" She mumbled.  

     "I'm so tiiiiiiiiired" she yawned over Scorpius's answer. They had to poke her several times before she would consent to getting up.  

     "Come on! The other students will be up soon, and you're not supposed to be here!" Scorpius whispered urgently. 

     "OK, OK, I'm coming... five more minutes..." She finally relented when Scorpius threatened to douse her with cold lake water and steal her blanket. 

 

 

    Half an hour later, they were dressed and eating in the Great Hall, waiting for the inevitable fallout from last night's antics.  


	15. Boxers and Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Finally) The prank!
> 
> cw: public embarrassment, adult humour(?), toilet humour, genitalia-based-humour.

**Chapter 15: Boxers at Breakfast**  ( **Griff** )

*'pants' here is the British term for underwear, rather than the American term for trousers.*  

     It was already eight-fifteen when Griffyn rolled out of bed that morning. He had overslept slightly, after a fitful night, plagued by queer dreams of being hunted like a deer.  

     He shook his head to clear his mind, and once again wished that he had his Walkman. It had been his dad's, one of the first models released by Sony in the early 1980s; incredibly bulky and old-fashioned looking compared to iPods and phones these days, it hulked squarely and solidly in his palms. Griff adored it. He loved the shape of it in his pocket, the soft crackling it made through the old bright-sponged headphones, and the fact that it had buttons to press, rather than being a touchscreen. He loved to run his fingers along the cassettes, choosing what to listen to next, and the way the tape whirred when he forwarded a song. Griff had only to put on the headphones and close his eyes, and he was back in the car with dad, nodding along to some eighties record – Soft Cell, Dexy's, or perhaps The Cure. In the back seat, through layers of time and memory, he could hear Luci stuttering and mumbling her way through the lyrics, getting nearly all of them wrong.  

     The Walkman didn’t work at Hogwarts, of course. It had gone haywire the first night when he had tried it, and he was hesitant to try it again, in case it was irrevocably damaged. It was currently locked away with his box of tapes in the top of his trunk.  

     Griff stood up slowly, stretching and humming to himself, pulling out fresh robes for the new day. He reached down to his bottom drawer to extract his underwear – but the drawer was entirely empty. 

     "What the hell?" He yelped. He rummaged quickly through his other drawers and his trunk. There was no sign of his pants. He rounded on the boys who shared his dormitory.  

     "OK, which of you did this?" He asked.  

     Reece shrugged, chewing on a liquorice wand. "Wasn't me." Griff raised his eyebrows at Liam and Finn.  

     "Why would I want your stinky underwear?" Liam wrinkled his nose.  

     Finn laughed and shook his head. "Maybe a house elf took a liking to you, Griff! Maybe it's sniffing your pants lovingly and dreaming of you." 

     "No, house elves can't touch clothes, it frees them", Reece countered, as if it had been a serious suggestion. 

     Griff whirled around and poked Spider roughly awake. "OI, where's my pants?" He demanded. 

     "You what...?" Came the bemused and half-asleep reply. 

     After twenty minutes of frantic searching, after which the dormitory resembled a bomb-site (post-detonation), Griff had still had no luck. His friends were sniggering delightedly in the corner. 

     "You'll have to go bare!" Liam chortled. 

     "Enjoy the breeze", giggled Spider. 

     "feel the air under there," chuckled Finn, gesturing crudely at his crotch. The others fell about, snorting. 

     Griff scowled at them. "You shut up!" He said, pointing a warning finger at them. "If any of you breathe a word of this – to _anyone_ – I will hex you into next Tuesday!" 

     They stifled their laughter, but were still smiling widely as they traipsed down to breakfast. Griff steamed ahead, tense and angry, clutching at his robes in case a sudden gust of wind should suddenly appear. This only amused his friends all the more.  

     On the stairs, they passed Rose Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Potter. She had taken out her weave and was wearing her hair naturally, explaining the benefits of it in an overly-loud voice to her two friends. 

     "Yes, I like to leave it loose sometimes. Much more freedom of movement. I can bounce it about now, you know." She wiggled her head in demonstration as Griff passed. For some reason, the Malfoy boy found this utterly hilarious, and had to sit down on the stairs because he was guffawing so hard.  

     "Annoying twits," thought Griff. Rose was so stuck-up, and the Potter boy was a complete disappointment. He hung around slime like that Malfoy even after all his father had done for the wizarding world. 

     As he reached the Great Hall, Griff stopped suddenly, his mouth agape and a look of pure horror crawling across his face. 

     "No..." He whispered. 

     The house flags which usually adorned the walls had been replaced by four pairs of his underpants; a green, red, blue and yellow-white pair hung in pride of place above the respective tables. People were milling about, staring up at them. Some were pointing and laughing. The headmaster, professor Longbottom stood, frowning and considering them in evident confusion. 

     Griff ducked his head as he entered. "They don't know they're yours," he told himself as he sat down at the Gryffindor table, as far away from the spectacle of his bright red boxers as he could. 

     But the worst was yet to come. As he was helping himself to sausage and bacon sandwiches, smothered in ketchup and stuffing his face in order to avoid talking with anyone, the post arrived. 

     At first, he thought that the owls had dropped ten or so handkerchiefs across the breakfasting students. Then he realised, with a lurch which felt like his stomach was flipping itself into his throat, they had delivered more of his pants. They were floating, parachute-like towards the upturned faces of the pupils below. There was a moment of shocked stillness before uproar broke out like a crashing wave. People were laughing, shouting, joking to each other. James Potter could be descried waving a pair of Griff's oldest, most faded y-fronts like a lasso, and chasing a pretty third-year girl, who was screaming. 

     Spider, Finn, Reece and Liam kept glancing at Griff, their eyes wide. He wanted to slap them and say "stop it! You're making it obvious they're mine" but he knew it was already far too late. Nestled inside each pair of pants was a name label which he had painstakingly and neatly sewn in himself, before setting off for Hogwarts that summer. There would be no denying whose underwear had been scattered and paraded about the school. He rushed out, his skin burning, aware that faces were turning towards him like flowers towards the sun, that catcalls assaulted him even as he hurried away. 

     The rest of that day was almost unbearable. Older students jeered at him in the corridors, and waved his pants in his face. A few were kind, including little Rosina Yusuf, who quietly returned three pairs of boxers to him, neatly folded just before Transfiguration. Most, however, seemed to think that the whole affair was the most excellent joke they had ever heard. 

     As the day dragged hellishly on, more and more of Griff's underwear turned up in odd places. Peeves whizzed about, Griff's pants perched royally on his head like a crown, and more were found flying at the top of the astronomy tower. The gargoyle which guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office modelled an especially tight pair rather proudly, striking poses for passers-by. He refused to remove them until an irate professor McGonagall tore them off him. This action was met with wolf-whistles and lewd remarks by several tittering sixth-years who witnessed it on their way to class. Even Hagrid appeared with a scorched and smoking rag, explaining that somebody had tried to put boxers on one of the blast-ended screwts.  

     All in all, by the time that Griff was finally free to go to bed, he was utterly exhausted and entirely humiliated. He returned his pants to the chest of drawers, locking them in with a spell this time, and placing a borrowed sneakoscope on his bedside table. He wrenched his hangings closed and flopped backwards onto the mattress.  

     Who had done this to him, and why? He twisted his watch around his wrist, thinking. Really, there were only three people who would want to pull off such a stunt; only three people he really disliked, and who disliked him back just as fiercely. He tugged the blanket up to his nose, and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of ways to get revenge on Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Potter and Rose Weasley.  


	16. Mouth Stealer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griff takes his revenge a little too far. Albus is forced into the silence he usually chooses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cn - mild violence. Bullying. Mild swearing (eg 'bloody').

**C** **hapter 16: Mouth Stealer**  

It was a whole week before Griff struck back. The time lapse had lulled Rose and Scorpius into a false sense of security and of triumph. Albus, however, had noted the glares that Griff and his friends sent his way during lessons and was unable to fight the sense of impending doom which threatened to engulf him. Griffyn was going to get his revenge, and soon. 

     It happened at breakfast one morning in the middle of November. The Hall was alive with excited chatter about the fast-approaching Christmas break. Smiles glittered around the room alongside floating crystal baubles and enchanted snow which fell continuously without ever making the floor wet or the air cold.  

     Scorpius was discussing whether or not he might be allowed to swap Transfiguration for Care of Magical Creatures next term, even though only those in third year and above usually took Hagrid’s classes.  

     “I can’t do Transfiguration – and I wouldn't even if I could, if you know what I mean - it's downright cruel to swap animals about like that. How would you like it if I replaced _your_ heads with an animal’s, or something?” 

     “Well, in some cases, it would be a kindness. Imagine the improvement on Griffyn if someone swapped his head with a chimpanzee’s”, Rose remarked.  

     “I’m not sure anyone would notice a difference,” Albus signed with a shy smile.  

     “Oh, I don't know,” Scorpius replied amiably, “he’s good-looking enough. He just happens to be an idiot…” 

     Rose spat out her mouthful of pumpkin juice.  

     “you think Griffyn is good-looking?” Asked Albus, mopping his face and wiping excess juice from Malfoy’s snout.  

     Rose turned her nose up imperiously. “If you ask me, he’s vile and gross through and through. He could have a face like Hrothgar the Handsome and I’d still hate his guts. Measly twit.” She pointed at Griff, who was lounging over Gryffindor table, stealing food from other people’s plates when they weren't looking, and flicking crumbs at the back of their heads. 

     Scorpius pulled out his book, " _One Hundred and One of the Rarest Magical Creatures – From the Crumple Horned_ _Snorcack_ _to the_ _Fizzlewit_ _Redwinger_ _,"_   laid it lovingly on the table and caressed one illustrated page with his finger. “I suppose you’re right,” he nodded absent-mindedly. Albus bent down to feed Malfoy some toast crumbs to cover up the sudden and inexplicable rush of relief which had swept over him at Scorpius’ words. 

     “Hey, Albus? Rose has detention again tonight. Do you want to go hunting for crackglow worms?” Scorpius asked him eagerly. “Rose said she doesn't care about coming anyway, so we can go ahead without her. And tonight's the only night for four years they will be glowing, because it has got to be a full blood moon, exactly six weeks before the solstice.”  

     “I thought that your detentions with Professor McGonagall ended last week?” Albus asked his cousin, turning to her just as she was shoveling a rather large spoonful of black pudding into her already-full mouth. 

     “Oh yesh, ‘ey did. But dis is for Defensh against ‘e dark arts”, she garbled though her food. “I argued with profeshor Smith about how usheful homework is as a concept”. She swallowed heavily. “Twat,” she added, thoughtfully. The other two grinned. 

    “I’d love to come, Scorpi,” Albus signed, nodding earnestly.  

     Scorpius had spoken of almost nothing else for the past three days or so. Albus had never heard of crackglow flies beforehand, but now he felt he would be able to pass any exam on them. A mad wizard called Gregor Mendel had apparently experimented with spells and biology years ago, and had succeeded in combining the DNA for glow worms, silk worms, and fairies. The result was a magical insect which created a warm, shining golden thread which was softer than any other material ever discovered. It was incredibly rare and incredibly precious, as it could only be collected on nights the crackglow flies lit up, and by people who knew where to look and how to catch them. Scorpius didn't want to collect their silk, however. He just wanted to see them. His excitement had proved somewhat contagious. Albus wanted to see them too, now, even if it meant risking being caught out of bed at night. Rose, on the other hand, had failed to see the draw. 

     “why you two want to run around in the cold and dark, chasing insects that make shiny bum floss is beyond me”, she said for the seven-hundredth time that week. She sighed a hard-done-by sigh, now tucking into a plate of honey-glazed breakfast waffles with hash browns and several kippers bathed in tomato sauce.  

     That was when the post arrived. 

     Rose caught the Daily Prophet in one hand without looking up from her food. It was a trick that she had been practicing in the hopes of being selected as seeker next year. Scorpius looked up as his owl showered him with his daily supply of sweets and letters from home. A thick, red letter thunked onto the table in front of Albus. His spoon froze halfway to his mouth, forgotten, and the ferret, unnoticed, stole its contents with little nibbles.  

    It was a howler. 

    Scorpius stared. Rose gaped. “What did you _do_ , Albus?” She asked. 

     He shook his head. _I don't know._  

     The corners began to smoke ominously as they watched. 

 _Open it!_ Scorpius signed, urgently. 

    Albus handled the scarlet envelope gingerly, as if afraid it were a venomous snake which might bite him at any moment. He lifted the flap open. A second later, an echoingly loud and horribly familiar snark filled the Great Hall. Heads bobbed in their direction like a flock of birds following a piece of bread. The voice was slurred and mocking and coursing with spite. 

     “Albus _dearest_ , you are a complete disappointment to your family. You are not brave like your dad, or talented at Quidditch like your mum and your brother. You're not popular or even well liked. You aren't good looking like your blonde cousins. You're not even clever, and you're supposed to be in Ravenclaw. The only person who can stand your company is the filthy Malfoy squib. I don't know how your dad stands to look at you. You're a shame to his name. You are nothing. You can't even speak. So I’m stealing something from you. Not that you use it anyway. You are nothing. You. Are. Nothing.” There was a soft sound, like someone spitting, and the howler erupted into scarlet flames. 

     The hall was deathly still. A silence blanketed the watching students. Everyone was staring at Albus’s little figure, white and unmoving. Rose was the first to stir. She stood up, glaring over at the small band of Gryffindors who followed Griff.  

     “I know who did this,” she announced to the school, “and they will pay.” She made as if to grasp Albus’ shoulder but he jerked away, clutching the bottom half of his face with both hands, as if trying not to throw up. 

     “Albus…” Scorpius began, but he stumbled backwards and hurried out of the hall, his hands still over his mouth. 

*** 

     Scorpius fiddled with his eagle-feather quill, and tried to stop himself from glancing at Albus' empty chair again. He had not turned up to any of his lessons that morning. He had not been in Herbology and now he was absent from potions. Nobody had seen him since breakfast, and Scorpius, who was rarely fazed by anything, was beginning to feel like someone was plaiting his intestines.  

     Where _was_ Albus?  

     Surely – _surely_ – he did not believe for a second a word of what the howler had said? Surely he _knew_ what utter rubbish it all was? 

     At break, he and Rose searched frantically for him, but to no avail. It wasn't until lunch that they managed to corner James, and Rose demanded that he let her see the 'Marauder's Map'. James flatly refused.  

     "No. It's mine. Albus got the cloak, OK?" Scorpius had no idea what they were referring to, but if it helped them find their friend, he wanted it desperately. Rose was furious.  

     "You _were_ at breakfast this morning, weren't you?" She asked her cousin, her voice rising. "You do _realise_ why we need to find Albus?" 

     "I might have been there. I might not. Who's asking?" James flicked his side fringe back from his face and lounged against the wall casually.  

     "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU MEAN, 'WHO IS ASKING?'" Rose exploded, causing several passing Hufflepuffs to jump. Rosina Yusuf dropped the books she was carrying. " _I'M_ ASKING, YOU DOLT. WE. NEED. TO. FIND. ALBUS." She lunged for his bag, fending him off with slaps and shrieks, and scattering his possessions everywhere. 

     "Ok, ok, just get off me!" James yelled. "Weirdo". He shook out his crumpled robes and handed her a yellowed piece of parchment somewhat reluctantly. 

      "Satisfied?" He asked her. She did not answer. She was perusing the piece of paper, poking her wand at it and whispering something Scorpius did not quite catch. He watched in amazement as brown ink began to blossom in purposeful lines from the center of the page – ink which ran and moved as the people around them did. It was a map of Hogwarts – and of everyone inside it. 

     "That map – where did you get it? It's brilliant!" He exclaimed, excitedly. James raised one eyebrow and considered him coolly. "My grandfather invented it," he drawled with an air of exaggerated nonchalance.  

      "I can't see him..." Rose muttered from behind the map. "He's not in Ravenclaw Tower, anywhere in the grounds, the Great Hall, the boys' toilets, or the library..." She ran one finger along the surface of the parchment. 

     "There he is!" She cried suddenly. 

"Where?" 

     "He's – he's in the hospital wing... what's he doing there?" She wondered, concern carved into her words. 

      "The hospital wing?" Asked James. His air of impenetrable swagger had deflated somewhat. "Do you reckon he's alright?" 

     "Why do you care?" Rose snapped, throwing the map into his face and stalking off. Scorpius grimaced at him and followed her. She was walking so fast that they reached the hospital wing in a matter of minutes, despite having been on the other side of the castle with James. Scorpius had to pause and catch his breath before he entered the ward, but Rose barged on ahead without knocking.  

     "Where is he? Albus?" She asked loudly. Madam Pomfrey bustled over. "Please, Miss Weasley, _try_ to keep it down. There are sick children trying to rest in here." 

     Scorpius intervened before Rose could open her mouth again. "Madam Pomfrey, we're sorry to cause a bother. We just really need to see if Albus is OK. He is, isn't he?"  

     "Poor boy," the matron sighed in reply. "Some children can be so cruel. He's over there in the corner bed. Don't stay long, mind. And close the curtain again. He doesn't want anyone to see..." 

     They hurried over to the bed she had indicated. It was tucked away in the far corner or the room, with heavy blue curtains drawn about it. Rose went to tear open the hangings, but Scorpius put out one hand. He cleared his throat. 

     "Um... Albus? It's us. Can we come in?" They listened. There was a muffled sound from within, which Rose took to be an affirmative. They slipped through to find Albus curled on the bed like a little mouse. His knees were folded up to his chest and, for some odd reason, he had pulled his  robes up above his nose so that the bottom half of his face was obscured. Scorpius could only see his eyes, glinting verdantly beneath the dark puff of his fringe. 

     "What's wrong?" He signed to him, wriggling his index finger and then tapping his little finger on his palm horizontally. "Why are you in here?" 

     Albus shook his head, another muffled squeak emanating from beneath his collar. "The howler was cursed," he signed back.  

     "Cursed how?" Asked Rose sharply. Albus shook his head again and buried his face deeper into his clothes. Scorpius sat down on the bed next to him. 

     "May I...?" He asked, indicating. Albus stopped shaking and froze in place. Scorpius reached forward and gently pulled down the robes, uncovering Albus' nose and chin. He couldn't quite prevent his shocked intake of breath at what he saw, although he tried to keep his expression measured for Albus' sake. Next to him, he heard Rose swear violently several times.  

     It was bad. 

It was very, very bad. 

     Albus' mouth was completely gone. His skin ran smooth and unblemished from his nose to his chin. Without thinking, Scorpius ran his thumb along the place where his lips used to be. Albus turned his head away, shame graven into his features. 

      "Madam Pomfrey will fix it", Scorpius told his friend with far more conviction than he felt. He had never heard of someone having their mouth cursed off, and he had no idea whether or not it was reversible. "She said she can, right?" He asked him. 

     Albus nodded. Rose let out a breath. "Oh bloody hell Albus! I thought you'd be gobless forever with that expression. Why do you look so sad if she can get your mouth back? You had me worried!" 

     "Rose," Scorpius said quietly. "Do you really not understand why he is upset right now?" She rolled her eyes. "Well duh. He could have let us know sooner it wasn't forever, though couldn't he?" She paced up and down. "I'm going to bloody KILL that Griffyn. You wait. I'll kill him dead." 

     "We do need to do something else," Scorpius agreed. "He clearly didn't get the message with the pants prank."  

     Albus shook his head. _No! The prank just made everything worse. He just called me names before. Now he's cursing me. I'll just take the name-calling._  

     Rose growled. "I'm getting him back even if you aren-" She broke off in mid-sentence. Scorpius had heard it, too. Through the curtains, the rough-accented voice they had come to detest was issuing.  

     "Madam Pomfrey," Griffyn was saying, "Can I possibly visit my _dearest mate,_ Albus? I was _so_ sorry to hear what happened to him". The words were followed by sure-gaited footsteps, and a hand made to pull open the curtains about the bed. Albus dived back into his robes again. Rose grabbed Griff's arm, hauling him bodily through the hangings and slamming him against the wall, one elbow pressed to his throat. "What the heck are you doing here, Myers?" She spat with venom. He looked her anger full in the face.  

     "I'm here to see Albus. Isn't it obvious?" 

     "Shut up. We know damn well why you're here. You've done enough damage. We won't take it any more. You'd better shove off and make tracks now - I'm trying my utmost not to punch your prettyboy head in". 

     "Oh I'm simply petrified", sneered the fair-haired boy. "You know, I was going to apologise. But I see that won't be necessary." 

     "Like you've ever been sorry for anything in your life," Rose retorted. 

     "Oh, and you're so perfect! I didn't even think poor ickle Alby would miss his damn mouth. It's not like he ever uses it anyway." Rose's fist barreled into Griff's cheek, knocking his skull back against the stone wall with a sound like a gunshot.  

     "He doesn’t talk anymore because you and your band of chimpanzees made fun of his speech!" She screamed, now weaving her hands into Griff's curls and slamming his head repeatedly against the wall. Scorpius, who had been sitting beside Albus and watching it all unfold with an open mouth, leapt up.  

     "Rose! Rose, stop!" He rushed over just as she threw Gryffin from her. He tangled in the curtains and fell;  his weight tore them from the rails with a terrible ripping sound.  

     "What on earth is going on out here?" Madam Pomfrey came hurtling out of her office, her grey hair flying and several bottles of medicine clutched precariously in her arms. She ordered them out when she took in the scene before her - Griff, still extricating himself from the mess of material, his face red and bleeding, and Rose standing over him with her fists clenched. 

     "Honestly! This is a hospital, not a zoo!" She twittered as she ushered them out. "And miss Weasley, if I ever see you hit anyone again, professor McGonagall will hear about it." She added. Rose rolled her eyes and marched out with a huff. Griff trailed behind her, looking a bit dazed after his pounding. Scorpius paused. 

     "you too, Mr Malfoy", clucked the matron. 

     "Yes – I – just wanted to..." He sped back to Albus, gave him a brief and fumbling hug and then followed the others out. Albus stared after him, wondering. The room felt colder after he had left.


	17. An Unspoken Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius visits Albus that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cn - romantic undertones I guess? They're still friends but (?)
> 
> Anyway: bonus chapter: I wrote this whilst at work haha :) Had to keep hiding it so people wouldn't ask why I was writing about boys in bed together when I should have been doing my job. Oh well, I wasn't caught in the end.
> 
> Please vote or comment - I want to know if you liked it, if you didn't, any improvements and thoughts you have please :)
> 
> Thank uuuuuuuu

     An itching, crawling sensation above his chin woke Albus some time after sundown. The hospital wing was dark and quiet. He scratched his face blearily, and found that his lips had partially returned; he could open his mouth a little now. He made to snuggle down again, ready to return to sleep, but stopped, sudden fear clutching at his heart. There was someone standing silently at the foot of his bed. The figure was robed in an abyss of shadow, and Albus could barely make out his silhouette. He sat up quickly, but breathed out as Scorpius stepped forward into a pool of moonlight, his hair glinting like spun silver. They looked at each other for a moment. Then Scorpius approached the bed, lifted the covers, and settled in beside him.  

     "You – you're not hunting crackglow flies?" Albus asked him uncertainly. Scorpius shook his head and laid down. Albus followed suit. They didn’t say anything more. Albus felt possessed by an unknown and violently strong emotion he could not put a name to. He had slept in the same bed as various childhood friends at sleepovers, and with his siblings and cousins every year when they all stayed over nana Weasley's house for Christmas. This felt different, somehow. It was filled with an intimacy which defied and transcended all labels Albus might have applied to it – it wasn't friendship anymore, but it wasn't quite anything else, either. They were only eleven, after all.  

     Albus had the odd sensation that he was nearing the edge of his childhood, and was now staring something utterly alien in the face. He did not want to move forward into this strange and unknown future without the boy who now lay beside him.  

     They lay parallel that night, not quite touching, as if breaching the five or so centimeters between their skins might redefine the very fabric of the universe. It was only after Scorpius had fallen asleep, his breathing deepening and his eyelashes fluttering with dreams, that Albus dared to cross the meager no-man's-land between them and stroke his blonde hair.  

It was the ghost of a touch; the whisper of a question.


	18. We Wish You A Hairy Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prank on Griff involving blue fur. Albus discovers his inner magic.
> 
> Dedicated to @Buzzybeeforever and @RennyJoly for all your lovely comments and support <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cn one swear word (sh*t), vomiting and sickness.   
> *squitting is a slang term for diarrhoea - I'm explaining this here as I'm not sure if its a global or regional term that only us East Londoners use??? ie "he's got the squits". Anyway.* 
> 
> Sorry it's a few days late - it's because I've actually written about 3-4 chapters to upload. They just need typing up and editing so they shouldn't be too long in the posting at all. Thank you to everyone still reading! <3 Please do vote or comment with thoughts x

**Chapter 18: We Wish You a Hairy Christmas**

 

"Hex me", Scorpius said.  

Albus shook his head, aghast. "what? No!" 

     His friend smiled at him. "You're so gentle, Alby. It's part of the plan, OK? When they find out stuff is missing, they'll suspect anyone who might have been faking illness just to get in the Hospital Wing. I need a rock-solid excuse. So – do your best. Hit me with a hex. It was this or go slap the venomous tentacular, so I chose this! Come on, hex me."  

     Albus blanched, looking to Rose for help. Scorpius followed his glance. He eyed Rose warily. She was leaning against the wall of the empty classroom with her arms crossed. The smile lingering at the corners of her lips had more than a lick of mischief about it. 

     "No, I don't want Rose to do it", he answered Albus' unspoken question. "She looks like she might enjoy hexing me a bit too much. I don't want anything irrevocable." Rose pushed herself off the wall, and bent down to straighten a crooked sock. She grinned widely at Scorpius. 

     "You know me too well," she laughed. "But as much I would find it amusing to hex you, I really don't think it will be necessary." She blinked as a ray of late sunlight caught her  in the eyes, and stepped towards them. Even though the movement was purely to escape the beam of sunlight, there was something conspiratorial about it. She dug around in the inside pocket of her robes and pulled out three sticky sweets in bright wrappers. "My dad helps my uncle to run 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'", she said, "and their best selling product is the skiving snackboxes – sweets that make you ill. They are an absolute classic. These are my last few and I was hoping to use them to get out of Potions next week – I really can't be bothered to sit there for hours making plant-growth potion. But you can have them. Getting Griff is worth sitting through two hours of total boredom for. I do it most lessons anyway..." 

     "Skiving snackboxes...?" Scorpius  wondered. "wait wasn't it a spotty swirl that someone put into Professor Smith's tea in October? You know, he's still got pimples."  

     For some reason, Rose didn't quite meet his eye. "Er – yeah. No idea who did that. But the snackbox sweets do actually have antidotes– ones you take to stop the effect they have. Professor Smith obviously didn’t know about that... but it means you can pass as really ill, Scorpi, and then you just eat the counter-sweets and you'll be totally fine.” 

     Scorpius delicately examined the proffered squares in their bright wrappers on Rose’s palm. “What will happen if I take all three…?” He inquired casually. 

     “Merlin’s knickers, Scorpi!” Albus breathed, “what are you trying to _do_ to yourself?” Scorpius chuckled impishly.  

     He was less amused five minutes later, as he was being carried to the hospital wing, squitting and bleeding and vomiting in all directions like some grotesque burst zit. People turned to stare in the corridors, many backing away hastily. Despite feeling absolutely awful, he still managed to be impressed with himself when he projectile vomited onto a hysterical Trelawney, five feet away. Her screams predicting him a painful and imminent death followed him up the corridor. He felt like yelling, “no shit! I feel half dead, already!” But his mouth was already full of the next spurt of sick.  

     Albus held him up, ducking out of the way where necessary, and fretting the whole time. Rose dragged them both along on his other side.  

     As Madam Pomfrey hurried to tend to Scorpius, steering him away from the other patients, Rose slipped unnoticed into her office, and emerged a minute or two later, her cardigan bulging oddly in way that it hadn't before. She nodded to Scorpius, who quickly swallowed the antidote-sweets when Madam Pomfrey's back was turned. The whole venture took less than ten minutes, although Scorpius pretended to feel ill for several hours after so as not to raise any suspicions. 

     That night, Rose tipped the stolen medicines onto Scorpius' bed with an air of delectable and unassailable triumph. Albus picked up a bottle of stitch-less skin-sealer gingerly and peered at it.  

     "I guess we know how he stole my mouth" he signed. Rose scowled at the bottle. 

     Scorpius grabbed a round pot of hair-growth powder in glee, erupting into giggles as he held it up.  

     "Noooo" whispered Albus softly, a smile budding at the corners of his lips. Rose looked on in confusion. 

    "He's already got hair?" 

     "Not all over him though..." 

     "Ohhhh...." 

*** 

     They spent the night in the Slytherin Common Room again, practising levitation and planning what they would do the next day. Rose managed to make anything she pointed her wand at fly – even one of the chairs (containing Scorpius) at one point, but Albus still struggled to make his feather quill float at all. After ten minutes of trying and failing, he began to feel extremely frustrated, The laughter of Rose and of Scorpius, who was six feet in the air, did little to calm him. "WINGARDIUM LEVIODA" he yelled, flicking his wand savagely.  

     "Float!" He signed in desperation. 

     The feather wobbled. He stopped and stared. 

     "Float", he signed again, swishing and flicking his wand carefully. The quill soared into the air, twirled magnificently and flew up to tickle Scorpius' nose. Albus began to cheer, jumping and clapping. Rose was so shocked that she forgot to continue to levitate Scorpius, who crashed to the ground in the chair.  

     "Ow?" He murmured, but bounced out, hugging Albus hard. Rose launched herself onto both of them and they fell about laughing. 

     "I can do it! I can do it!" Albus signed. His eyes were wet with happy tears. His friends smiled at him, filled with pride. 

     "You can do it", Scorpius replied. 

*** 

     The next day seemed to slip past like sand through a child's fingers. They were hyper with excitement about the coming prank – but in the general Christmas buzz, their own jitters were swallowed and lost. A tide of festive fervour had swept through the school. Lunch consisted of warm goblets of mulled wine, turkey and brussel sprout sandwiches and copious amounts of sugar-dusted mince pies. Only Rose managed to eat a decent amount. Albus was too nervous, Scorpius too excited. 

     It was the last day of term, so classes ended early. As the bell rang to signal the end of the last lesson of the term, Albus, Rose and Scorpius stormed out with everyone  else, singing Christmas carols at the tops of their voices and cheering loudly. The crowds of noisy students offered the perfect cover. Rose drew the powder from the bag and stole forward, her eyes locked on Griff who was several people in front of them in the crush of people. She raised her wand. Scorpius put out one hand. 

     "Albus... do you want to do it?" He asked him. Albus went still, and then nodded, hefting Malfoy onto one shoulder. He raised his wand with a trembling hand and swished and flicked it, using his other hand to sign the levitation charm. The pod of electric blue powder soared into the air, jittering above the heads of the students for a moment, before tumbling down and breaking open on Griff's honey-coloured curls. He began to cough and to rub his face. They peered over the shoulders of taller students, trying to see what was happening. 

     Screams broke out, rippling outward from where Griff stood, clutching at his face in horror. Thick tufts of blue hair were sprouting, covering every inch of skin that the powder had touched. Griff was moaning in inexpressible fury. He turned to look who had done it and his eyes caught on Albus, who was quickly stowing his wand away. He did not quite manage to wipe the guilt from his expression in time, and Griff's responding howl was animal in its intensity. He began to charge towards them. This movement dislodged clouds of the hair-growth powder, which touched those cloistered nearby. The crowd began to stampede backwards in an effort to escape Griff and the powder. All those within five feet or so of him were soon clawing at the bright blue bristles appearing on their arms and faces. It was utter chaos.  

     "Oops", said Rose. Albus looked on in horrified silence. Scorpius pulled them both, unnoticed in the din, into an empty classroom. They shut the door quickly, and stared at each other. 

     Scorpius began to snicker quietly. Rose grinned.  

     "Did you see his face?" She asked. Albus allowed himself a worried smile. 

     "And you! You managed it!" Scorpius cried, hi-fiving Albus. "You are officially amazing. As far as I know, no-one has ever signed magic before, right, Rose? Non-verbal spellwork exists but not signed – and non-verbal isn't even possible till sixth or seventh year!" Albus blushed. 

     "Thank you". He signed, tapping his chin.  

     "What else can you do?" Rose asked. 

     "I don't know." Albus replied. "I guess I will have to find out!"  


	19. The Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius at Christmas

**Chapter 19: The Present**

     Scorpius had always loved Christmas. He loved the lights and the cheer which seemed to infuse itself into even the most sour of people. He loved decorating the house with his dad, putting little santa hats on the peacocks, and nibbling at the crystal bowl of orange candied sweets his father always made and left on the kitchen table.  

     It was usually just the two of them, and sometimes nana Cissa, but that had always been more than enough for Scorpius (with the exception of  that first, awful Christmas after his mother had left). The Christmas after his first term at Hogwarts, however, Scorpius found himself missing his friends terribly. He did try to hide it for his dad's sake, but he had never been the best of actors. His father did not comment on it though, for which Scorpius was grateful. He would have hated having to explain to him that he was pining for the children of Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. 

     Draco was clearly overjoyed to have Scorpius back at home, and cooked up such a feast on Christmas day that Scorpius wondered if he would ever be able to eat again. That evening, as Draco dozed on the sofa, Scorpius pulled out his Christmas present from Albus. It was a rectangular-shaped parcel, in green wrapping which reminded him of his friend's eyes. He tore it open gently, and a thick book fell into his lap. Embossed in gold on the crisp front cover were the words, "The Hunt for Hogglepigs and Other Misadventures" by Luna Lovegood. On the inside page, there were two notes. One he recognised as Albus' inordinately neat hand. 

      _"Dear Scorpi_ ", it read; 

_"Here is Luna's newest book. I have managed to get you this copy early – it's not going to be published for another two months – so don't tell or show anyone! Merry Christmas bestie,_

_Albus"_

     Underneath this message, in ink the colour of blood oranges, and in an odd, curling script were the words: 

_"Scorpius Porpius,_

_I have never met you, but I did know your dad. He once locked me in his basement for a year. But that's all in the past and I made some friends down there. Albus tells me you are a good person and have been very kind to him, and I admire your spirit from what I have heard. It must have been very hard starting Hogwarts as the first squib. You have courage and gentleness and those two are rare to find together. Albus also said you want to be a naturalist. I will give you some  tips:_

_1/ Never stop looking for something you believe in – even if everyone else tells you it doesn't exist; because nothing really exists, does it?_

_2/ Be free._

_3/ Wear blobberfoot and skunk tails through hoops in your nose when hunting shy land creatures. It makes them think you're a tree._

_I wish you the best_ _in your life journey and perhaps if you can stay with Albus another Christmas, we may meet in years to come. Until then, may you dance on moonbeams and sleep on Lilly petals and dream forever._

_Love from_

_Luna Lovegood"_

     Below the printed name, instead of a signature, Luna had left him an orange-ink fingerprint. He ran one of his own fingers over it, feeling choked. It was possibly the best present that he had ever received. When he went to bed that evening, he left the book on his bedside table where he could reach out and touch it in the night. 


	20. The Disappearance of Mr. Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griff kidnaps Malfoy

**Chapter** **2** **1** **: The Disappearance of Mr Malfoy**  

     Spring crept up on them that year. Green life seeped slowly into the thawing branches of the Forbidden Forest and the whomping willow blossomed so vividly that it began to resemble a freeze-frame explosion of confetti. The smaller trees surrounding it echoed the willow with paler puffs of blossom. The drip-drip-drip of the spring showers formed an almost perpetual rhythm to their ventures outside, and Hagrid could be seen, tending to the first shoots of the year in his moleskin overcoat. 

     The war with Griff continued well beyond their first term at Hogwarts. If the Christmas period had been lonely, at least it had offered the trio some respite from the relentless bullying of the Gryffindor boys. Since the hair-ball stunt, Griff's proclivity for spiteful digs at Albus had increased, and Scorpius, too, was often at the receiving end of his less-than-kind comments. He simply glared at Rose, however – clearly smarting to get his own back, but unwilling to challenge her in front of his friends in case she should best him again; this time, publicly. 

     Griff took his time before making his next big move – and when he did, it was worse than anything he had done before; worse than anything Albus could have dreamed.  

     Albus awoke one morning, several weeks into the Spring term, expecting to feel the familiar comforting weight of Malfoy on his chest, or a little nibbling at his ear lobes. There was nothing. He sat up. "Malfoy?" He called, looking around for him – but he was nowhere to be seen.  

     "Malfoy!" He called again. There was no answer of scurrying feet. Fear gripped him, vice-like. He struggled out of his blanket and ran over to Rose and Scorpius, who were each on a different sofa in the Ravenclaw Common Room. He shook them both awake, dislodging the cushions they were snoozing under.  

     "Malfoy's gone!" He blurted in panic. 

     "Gone...? I'm here..." Scorpius mumbled sleepily. Rose simply made an odd groaning sound; it was too early for her to be capable of speech.  

     "The ferret Malfoy. He's gone."  

     Scorpius sat up. "Have you looked everywhere in Ravenclaw Tower?" Albus nodded miserably. 

     "OK, well don't worry. We'll come help search with you. He's got to be somewhere, right?" He glanced down at Rose, who was snuffling into the pillow, her hair obscuring most of her face. " _I_ will come help search with you," he amended with a fond smile. He stroked a strand of hair away from Rose's face. "We won't be long,", he whispered to her with an odd tenderness. Albus stared. 

     It took them half an hour to discern that Malfoy was definitely not in Ravenclaw Tower. After that, they agreed to split up and search different ends of the Castle to search more efficiently. Several hours later, Albus had still had no luck. There was no sign of Malfoy anywhere. He had spent the last half-hour or so in a blind haze of frenzied searching, and his panic was catching up with him. He felt exhausted, and it was not even ten o clock in the morning.  

      Albus paused at the top of the astronomy tower, defeat and sadness overwhelming him. He slid down the wall, resting his head on his knees and barely noticing the fresh-lipped breeze which whistled through the open sections of the walls. 

     Laughter rang out, echoing up the stairs to the turret where he sat and chittered out into the blue sky beyond. He reached out and cupped his hand in a patch of sunlight, as if it were something tangible that he could hold onto. He flexed his fingers, feeling the warmth kiss them softly. 

     The voices on the stairs were growing louder and louder and a minute later, a long-nosed, freckle-splashed face emerged, tailed as he always was by Finn, Spider, Liam and Reece. Griff scowled at him, his fair eyebrows encroaching on his pale-grey eyes – but for some odd reason, Finn and Spider seemed amused to see him.      

     "My, my what a long face, Poo-tter..." Came the sneer he had grown to detest. He stood up slowly, keeping his back to the wall. The uneven and ancient stones beneath his shoulder blades seemed to lend him new strength. 

     "What have you done with him?" Albus spat, for once finding the courage to verbalise.  

"Found your voice, then?" Griff growled.  

     "You couldn't steal it forever", he told him, unsure of where the sudden bravado had come from, but grateful for the steel coursing through his veins. He suddenly didn't care that his tongue couldn't quite grasp the sounds. He didn’t care that he lisped and garbled certain letters. It was more than enough that he was still here, still speaking when the world had tried to keep him in silence. His breathing was oddly measured, and as a cold wind whipped up around them, he began to feel invincible. He had never felt so powerful in his life. 

     The others had noticed the change in him. Griff's stance stiffened in response, and he raised one eyebrow. Albus cut in before he could speak. 

     "Where is my ferret? I know you took him".  

     Griff grinned – it was a menacing and predatory smile. "Which one? You have two pet rat things. Both are called Malfoy. It is sooo confusing." 

     His friends began to guffaw. 

     "Shut up. Give him back, or-" 

     "or what? You'll lisp at me? You'll wiggle your hands? If you want your ferret back, you'll have to apologise first. You've made me look stupid more than once, now." 

     "It's not hard to do", Albus retorted, "and I will _never_ apologise to you." 

     "Your call." Griff shrugged and walked away, dropping something small on the floor. His friends shot Albus leering glances before following him down the stairs.  

     "You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us!" One of them called back. 

     Albus waited until they had disappeared before resting his head on a crook in the tower wall. The adrenaline was kicking in now and the realisation of the enormity of what he had just done was crashing over him. He had stood up to Griff and his cronies all by himself. Rose would never believe him when he told her. The rush of pride he felt was dinted by the pit of worry in his stomach. Where was Malfoy? Griff wouldn't hurt him, would he? 

     As he moved to leave, his eye caught on the thing that Griff had dropped. His stomach back flipped. Bile rose into  his throat. It was a tuft of white fur, clearly cut from Malfoy. Albus set off at a run for Ravenclaw Tower. Rose and Scorpius would know what to do.


	21. The Darkest Watches of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prank feud erupts into violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cn violence and drowning

 

 **Chapter 2** **2** **– The ****Darkest Watches of the Night**  

     Rose peered through the gloom.  

     "I'm making a habit of this..." She thought, regarding the red-draped boys' beds with distaste. A loud snoring issued from the bed to the far right, and even the heavy curtains about his bed could not entirely absorb the sound. Rose thought that the boy's name might have been something odd like Beetle or Wasp. Griff's bed was directly in front of her, facing the open doorway. He was much quieter than his friend, only emitting a gentle snuffling. He alone of the five boys slept with his curtains open. Rose wondered if he felt trapped with them closed, like she did – and then reminded herself that she didn’t care. 

     There it was, glimmering on his wrist as before. The watch.  

      "What kind of a prat sleeps with their watch on?" She whispered to herself, rolling her eyes. Then her eyes caught on the silver sphere perched on his bedside cabinet.  

      "Oh crap," she mouthed. It was a sneakoscope. Really, she had been stupid not to expect a hiccup; _o_ _f_ _course_ Griff would have upped his security after they had stolen his underwear last term. She had to hope that the sneakoscope was the only alarm he had set up. At least it hadn't picked up her presence yet. She squinted at it. It looked very old, so she guessed that was why - the range on sneakoscopes diminished over time. So long as she didn't get too close, the plan might still work.  

     Rose remained framed in the doorway, stock still and thinking. If only she knew how to cast a summoning charm – but that was quite advanced magic – Flitwick usually taught it to fourth and fifth years. Then again, she only needed to levitate the watch and then direct it over to herself. She grinned and pulled up her sleeves. 

      "Wingardium Leviosa". The watch slid off Griff's wrist slowly. It was already slightly too large for him, to her delight, and she caught it from the air when it came close enough. 

      The movement she made when she reached for it, however, disturbed the sneakoscope. The air was rent by a high whistle-scream as the sneakoscope began to whir ferociously. She slipped down the stairs and began to run towards the portrait hole, knowing that it was already too late. She could hear the boys thumping out of bed and after her, could hear Griff yelling, "my watch! She stole my watch!" She rolled through the portrait hole, grabbing Scorpius and Albus who waited outside for her and yelling, "RUN!" They barrelled away. Behind them, the sounds of their pursuers thundered in their ears.  

     They had a small head start on them, and Rose planned to use it to their advantage. She ripped open the hidden corridor behind the tapestry of the dancing trolls and pulled the other two in behind them. They heard Griff and the others charge past.  

     "Albus, take the watch", she muttered breathlessly. "He thinks I have it." Albus pocketed it. "We have to get to Slytherin Common Room. He can't get us in there." 

     "Ravenclaw is closer?" Scorpius whispered back. 

     "Yes but he's proved he can break in there – he took Malfoy while we were sleeping. Anyone can enter so long as they can answer the riddle, yes?"  

     Albus nodded. "Right. Let's go." Albus pulled out the cloak and threw it over the other two. They emerged cautiously and then made their way as fast as they could through the deserted castle. They had just turned off the corridor which led to the dungeons, when a door to their left burst open and Reece ran straight into them.  

     "What the heck?" He said.  

    The cloak slipped under his grasping fingers, and their heads were unveiled. 

     "I'VE FOUND THEM! I'VE FOUND-" He cried out.  

     Albus signed quickly and Reece dropped down, the stunning spell hitting him squarely in the chest – but the damage was already done. Griff, Liam, Finn and Spider crashed through the door in hot pursuit. They set off at a run again, shooting spells over their shoulders. 

     "We can't go back to the common room," panted Scorpius. "They'll know where it is then!"  

     "So?"Rose snapped. "We're about to get our arses kicked here?" 

      "Scorpius is right," Albus decided. "It's become our safe space and I don’t want _them_ anywhere near it". They took a passageway to the side, looping back around, but found themselves at a dead-end. Footsteps stormed behind them again. They barged into one of the empty classrooms to the side. 

     "Where do we go?" Cried Albus.  

     "Look!" Rose replied. She pointed at the window which had been left slightly ajar. She threw herself through it. 

     "Come on!" She yelled. Scorpius vaulted through, holding out a hand as Albus followed less steadily. The door of the classroom slammed open behind him as they began to sprint down the front lawn. All was still and quiet. Dew frosted the front lawn, and the lights were out in most of the castle windows and in Hagrid's cabin down by the forbidden forest.  

     The Gryffindor boys caught up with them a few minutes later. Griff swung a punch at Rose. "Where is it?" He shouted. She ducked, and looked at Scorpius.  Griff followed her gaze. 

     "You?" He asked. Scorpius backed away. Griff strode after him. Albus made to cast a spell at him, but Finn jumped on him, holding his arms behind his back in a painful, twisted position. Rose was duelling Reece and Spider at once. 

     Scorpius grabbed a stone and threw it over his shoulder. It missed Griff by inches. He began to run faster, and soon the yells and bangs of the fight grew quieter. His breaths came in white gasps and he couldn't, couldn't, couldn't run anymore.  

     "Wait. Griff." He paused, leaning his hands on his knees and gasping.  

     Griff stopped too with a slight skidding movement. They were alone in the night by the far edge of the lake. 

     "Where is it?" He demanded. Scorpius shook his head, still catching his breath. 

      “GIVE IT TO ME!” Griff screamed. His voice was livid, his eyes white and wild. Scorpius began to feel afraid.  

     “I don’t have it,” he said, truthfully. The watch was nestled in the folds of Albus’ pocket, somewhere in the darkness behind them.  

WHAM. 

     Griff’s fist slammed into the side of his skull with a sickening cracking sound. The left side of Scorpius’ face felt jarringly numb for a moment, before the pain came rushing in. His head felt like it was on fire. He stepped back, the edges of the lake licking his shoes now. 

     “Woah, Griff, stop-” 

     WHAM. 

     The second punch buried itself in his stomach with the force of a train wreck. He yelled out, and then Griff was on him, pummelling with a mad ferocity which left Scorpius dazed and breathless. A storm of blows hailed down, raining upon him again and again, and he backed away, barely noticing the water swirling about his kneecaps. He raised his arms in a feeble attempt to shield his head from Griff’s pounding limbs. Griff had half a foot on him, and was alive with some monstrous new rage which only served to double his strength.  

     “WHERE IS IT?” He was roaring over and over. Scorpius took another step back, but he lost his footing on a stone as it gave way underneath him, and he found himself submerged. The water was freezing. He moved to resurface, but couldn’t; a rock seemed to have fallen on top of him. 

 _Not a rock_ , he thought. _Griff_. The other boy was holding him under, and continuing to hit him. Panic grasped him. It laced itself like venom through his veins, reaching to the ends of his fast-numbing fingers with incredible speed. 

     “No. Stop!” Scorpius’s scream was a shoal of terrified bubbles. His protests were in vain; the lake stole his voice, whisked it away to its murky depths. The temperature was becoming painful now. The cold was so fierce that it seemed to suck at his very life force. The darkness was beginning to close in. 

    He kicked and thrashed with an unbearable urgency, his chest tightening from the lack of oxygen.  

 _Air, I need air._  

     He could not free himself from Griff’s grip. He would die here, pinned underwater and alone. The last thing that he would know would be the murderous clutches of the black lake. And then something miraculous happened; his flailing foot made contact with what must have been Griff’s shin. He shifted, and Scorpius broke through the surface, dragging in a mouthful of air - but the relief was fleeting. In another second, Griff was upon him again, and he was being pushed down, down, down. 

     Until, quite unexpectedly, he felt himself being torn from the water. Someone was clutching him close, hugging him as he did not remember ever being hugged before. For a moment all he could do was suck desperately at the air, the beautiful, plentiful, life-giving air – “Albus?” He managed to cough out. His friend was holding him tightly, his warmth bleeding through Scorpius’ soaking robes. He was shaking. Over his shoulder, Scorpius could see Griff kneeling in shock, his nose a bloody mess from Albus’ recent punch. His eyes were horrified as the realisation of what he had nearly done to Scorpius washed over him. 

     “Malfoy – Scorpius – I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry”, he choked out.  

     Albus stood over him, and Griff seemed to shrink before his gaze. He threw the watch, waiting until the other boy had caught it, before turning his back on him wordlessly. Albus took Scorpius’s hand and began to lead him back towards the castle. He didn't ask if he was alright. That was a stupid question, they both knew. Instead, he refused to let go, weaving his fingers into Scorpius’ and guiding him forward. The shock was kicking in now, and Scorpius felt lightheaded. He stumbled forward like a blind boy. 

     Rose met them near the front gate, her hair flying and her breath coming in gasps from running. “Are you alri- _what happened?_ ” She spluttered, changing tack when she caught sight of Scorpius’ blood-soaked, bruised face and his wet clothes.  

     “He never threw you in the lake?” She asked in indignation. 

     “No.” Albus replied verbally. “He tried to drown him.” He did not raise his voice, but the anger marring it was unmistakable.  

     “He what?” Rose gasped. “I’m gonna kill him!” She made to march past them, but Scorpius grabbed her wrist, shaking his head. “No. I just - want to go inside.”  

     Rose bit her lip and then sighed. “At least go to Madam Pomfrey” she advised him. Scorpius nodded. “I’ll kill him later though,” she vowed. The look of determination on Albus’ face echoed similar sentiments.  

     "I knocked Liam out, and Spider and Finn took off." She explained. "But it doesn’t matter. Let's just get you inside". This time as they climbed through the window, Albus helped Scorpius. 

     They made their way to the Hospital Wing, taking care to be quiet about it. It wouldn't do to be discovered by a teacher, wandering the castle at night in the state they were in. They were lucky. The Castle was devoid of so much as a whisper of anyone else as they stole through it. 

     At the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey met them with a shocked intake of breath. “What on earth have you been doing, Mr Malfoy?” She asked, “wrestling with the giant squid?”  

     “Something like that,” Scorpius mumbled with a small, strained-looking smile. 

      As he let himself to be tucked into bed ten minutes later, now warm and dry and full of pepper-up potion and dreamless-sleep tonic, he finally allowed himself to let go of Albus’ hand.


	22. It's Because

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CN ptsd-like symptoms, mental health, nightmares, mention of drowning (see previous chapter)

      Rose sat with Scorpius' head cradled in her arms. His legs were thrown over Albus, and all three of them were buried under a thick quilt. Despite the warmth of the day, they had been unable to stop him from shivering. "Is he ill?" Albus signed. 

    "I don't think so. Not physically anyway."

"I can still hear you" came a muffled voice from under the covers.

     "What did he say?" Albus asked. Rose's smile twisted across her face but didn't quite reach her eyes. "He said he can still hear us."

  
     "Oh. Well Scorpi, we need to get you help."

  
"I don't want help. I want to stay here with you two. It's comfortable here."

     "Half term will be over soon, Scorpi. And you can't stay in here forever. You can't live life under a blanket. You have to face the world at some point - and it will have to be soon. We won't leave you, though. You don't have to do it alone."

"I'm fine here." 

  
    Rose sighed. Albus looked helplessly back. Scorpius had barely left Ravenclaw Tower since the attack, and he had spent most of the Spring Half Term curled up under a blanket on the sofa. He hadn't gone anywhere near Gryffindor Tower or the Slytherin Common Room, and Albus thought he knew why. What with the dim green lighting, the underwater view, and the steady drip-drip-drip, there was no escaping the fact that the Slytherin dorm was submerged under the lake. Scorpius could not bear to imagine the weight of it pressing down on him after what Griff had done.

  
     "Scorpi-"

     "No."

     "Look," Rose snapped, losing patience somewhat, "You aren't eating properly. You barely get out of the room, and when you do, you can't deal with loud noises or other people or, well, anything really - and you're not sleeping. All those nightmares? You don't have to deal with this. If you just ask Madam Pomfrey, she'll help you. Albus and I do not mind waking up with you when you have a bad dream - but we don't like to see you in pain. So if you won't go to Madam Pomfrey, we are going to tell her anyway."

  
     Scorpius sat up, his blonde mop askew where the blanket had ruffled it. he was crying. "OK. I'll go."  
Albus and Rose both sighed in relief.  
     

     "I'll go get my shoes. One sec-" Rose rushed up the stairs to her dormitory, her black curls unfurling in her wake.

     Albus reached across and took Scorpius’ hand tentatively. His fingers were cold beneath his own. They both jumped when Rose’s scream shattered the air. She thumped down the stairs, her arms full of fur.

     “It’s-it’s-”

“ _Malfoy_?” Albus ran over to her. “Is he-?”

“He’s fine. I think. He must have been put there while we were at lunch.”

     Albus took the little warm bundle from her, peering at him carefully before holding him tight. Malfoy looked perfectly healthy. He didn’t seem to be anxious or to have been hurt in any way. In fact the only difference was that he had put on a little weight. Albus poked the new curve of tummy bulge gently. “You podge”, he murmured happily into his fur. Malfoy nestled himself on Albus’ shoulder against his ear, making little beastie noises of content. The sight even drew a smile from Scorpius.

     “Let’s go,” he said, with renewed courage. “Maybe Pomfrey will give me dreamless sleep or something”. They walked out of the Common Room together. As they approached the hospital wing, Scorpius turned to them. 

 

     "Thank you. I couldn't have asked for better friends." They hugged him. "I can - I can do this bit myself I think." He took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. They both nodded in encouragement.

 

     "We'll wait for you here," Albus signed. Scorpius smiled.

When the door had closed, Albus turned to Rose. "Didn't think that Griff would give Malfoy back, did you?"

     "No," she mused. "Listen there was something funny about all that."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Well I figured Griff would either kill Malfoy or let him loose to get lost somewhere in the grounds. I don't know. I didn't think he'd give him back looking so healthy and cared for at least. Something doesn't add up... and I found him wrapped up in a blanket on my bed like a baby. There were ferret treats tucked into the folds. And this was on top." She pulled out a note. Written in very messy handwriting was a single word. 

     "Sorry?" Albus read, his expression the epitome of confusion.

"I know, right?" Rose whispered back. 

"Don't tell Scorpius", Albus signed. "We can't bring Griff up around him. He's too fragile right now."

"Yeah I think you're right." 

     "He's going to be OK, you know", Albus assured her. "He can beat anything and come up smiling. I believe in him."

     Rose smiled softly, leaning against the wall.

     "It's because you love him." She said quietly. 

     Albus pretended he hadn't heard.


	23. The Heart of the Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cn mention of family death, mention of terminal illness, mention of euthanasia, forgiveness for someone who is a bit of a shit, mention of care homes and parents with mental illness, mention of parental abandonment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Forgive like little children. They have the capacity to truly hate, truly love, and truly forgive. Therefore they alone can truly live."
> 
> "“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5 And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."" - Jesus, Matthew 18

     Spring melted into summer, and Scorpius seemed to return slowly to life. His smiles became more and more frequent. He joked more, laughed more, and behind his words grew a whisper of something of his old light hearted confidence and charm. 

     Griff, in contrast, faded more each day. He barely said a word in lessons, and was rarely to be seen at meal times in the Great Hall. His band of friends wandered about aimlessly, seemingly lost without their leader. He was a shadow of his former belligerent self – and Albus found himself half thinking he might deserve it.

     One morning in mid-May, the three of them were lounging outside under the shade of a flourishing oak tree. Its leaves were gilded by the sunlight pattering down through the stretching branches and speckling their faces with dapples of golden light. Rose snoozed, her head propped on her school bag, and Albus lazily watched Scorpius studying a bright green beetle as it scurried between his fingers. Malfoy was curled on his chest, the light setting his fur ablaze. The air was an unmoving, warm embrace; still and enveloping as a hot bath. Albus was almost asleep when Griff approached them.

     He slunk up, barely rustling the grass where once he might have stomped with arrogance. Rose opened one eye and wrinkled her nose.

     “What do _you_ want?” She asked.

     Albus stood up in a flash, placing himself between Griff and Scorpius. Scorpius did not move. He was frozen and did not seem to notice the little beetle tumbling to the ground in an escape attempt.

     “I, er… I wanted…” Griff looked terrible. His cheeks had hardened into osseous shells lapping the dark purple cavities of his eyes. His previously beautiful golden-brown curls were dull and woody-looking, even in the bright sunlight of the day, and his freckles sharply pocked his pale skin. It was hard to believe that he had once been handsome; that he had once been _happy_.  

“You wanted?” Albus prompted coldly.

     “To… apologise -”

     “We aren’t interested”, Rose said, folding her hands behind her head and regarding Griff’s obvious discomfort with brazen apathy.

     “Scorpius… please – I just want to explain…”

     “Explain what?” Albus spat. “Why you tried to murder my best friend? Why, then? Because how can you explain that? What possible reason could you have to make that an OK thing to do? The truth is, Griff, you are not a good person. You feed off the fear and shame of others, and you use your charm to blind everyone else to what you are and what you are doing. But we are not blind. We see you.”

     Griff paused, his mouth open. Then he nodded. “You’re right. I have no excuse. And maybe I’m not a good person. I’ve hurt you, Albus, and you, Scorpius. I’m sorry. I was just… so angry.”

     The other three looked at him in stony silence. He nodded again. “OK. I get it. You don’t want to talk to me – and after what I did… you shouldn’t have to. Just – I want you to have this, Scorpius.”

     Griff extended one palm, a hunk of grey plastic clutched in it. "Apart from my watch this is my most precious possession. I heard you like muggle things – science and stuff. So here. It plays music. Was my dad’s… original 1980s." He held out the walkman, tears glittering on his eyelashes. He looked like his heart was breaking to see it go, but he held his hand steady. Scorpius took it, turned it over, but did not say anything. He watched Griff’s face, a little curiously. Griff found it hard to look back – especially since there was a scar above Scorpius’ right eyebrow that had not been there before his frenzy by the lake. It kept catching his eye when he dared to glance over at Malfoy.

     Rose sat up quickly, her face a picture of fury. “You think you can make everything alright with a bit of plastic? You think that will wipe away what you did? That you can walk away now, and sleep soundly again?”

     Griff shook his head frantically. “No, oh no – this is not given as a condition of forgiveness. I don’t expect to be forgiven. It’s just – I don’t know. I wanted Scorpius to have it. I’ll... I’ll go now. I’ll leave you to it. Won’t… won’t bother you anymore.” He turned to leave.

    “Who’s Lucy?”

     Griff froze.

     “What – Who - Where did you hear that name?” He spluttered.

     “Who is she?” Rose asked again, eyes narrowed.

“I- I don’t-”

     “We’ve earned the truth from you, don’t you think?”

     Griff was trembling. He sat down heavily – it looked like his legs had given way, rather than it being a voluntary movement.

     “Was she your childhood girlfriend?” Rose asked. “Did she break your heart? Oh wait – I forgot – you don’t have one”. She snickered, but Scorpius hushed her.

     “Rose, no-” It was then that she noticed the tears sliding thick and fast down Griff’s face.

     “Crap. Er – don’t cry”, she began awkwardly, but Griff was already breaking into sobs. Albus looked from Griff to Rose to Scorpius in bewilderment.

     “I’m s-sorry. No-one knows… No-one… has said her name to me… for years…” He took several deep, struggling breaths, regaining some control over himself.

     “She’s my sister”, he said finally, wiping his face on the sleeve of his robe. Scorpius offered him a handkerchief gingerly and he accepted it.

     “Thanks…”

     “What happened?” Rose pressed, somewhat more gently than before.

    “We were twins. Never – never spent a day apart in our lives. Until our mother killed her.”

     “Killed her?” Albus repeated, stunned.

      Griff nodded. “Lucy got sick – she lost… her speech, slowly at first, then completely. Then her movement started going. By the end, she couldn’t do anything except blink. It took… _everything_ from her… and she had always been so lively. You couldn’t shut her up.” He smiled through his tears. “She always sang. Any song, even if she didn’t know the words, she’d make up her own ones. We’d tease her for it, me and dad, but she did it anyway.

     She didn’t stop singing until she physically couldn’t any more… kept on belting them songs out, even when she was slurring so bad we could hardly understand her. She was a fighter."

 _"I just don’t understand why it couldn’t have been me!”_ He burst suddenly, his fist clenched on his knee. He took another breath, steadying himself, and continued.

     “Albus… your speech… reminded me of things I couldn’t bear to remember. I was supposed to escape the past at Hogwarts and you wouldn’t let me. It’s why I picked on you. You didn’t deserve it, any of it. I’m sorry.”

     Albus waved this comment away. He wasn’t sure how to deal with it yet.

     “Did your mum kill her so she wouldn’t suffer anymore?” Rose asked.

     “ROSE!” Scorpius hissed. She shot him a look.

     Griff shook his head. “No – she did the opposite. And much worse. She had the power to heal her and she did nothing. Didn’t try any spells, potions, charms, didn’t read up any books on healing or take her to St Mungo’s. She let her go on getting iller and iller until she died.”

_“Why?”_

     “Mum… she was… always difficult… had fits of tempers… Sometimes it was like there were two of her, each a completely different person. She brought us up as muggles, right from the start. Me and Lucy knew nothing about magic or Hogwarts or anything. When I got my letter from Hogwarts, I asked her why she hadn’t told us about any of it, and why she hadn’t used spells to help Lucy. Apparently she was afraid that dad would leave her if he found out she was a witch – dad’s a muggle, you see – and she hoped we would turn out as muggles if we were brought up like that… Lucy died not knowing about all of this – not knowing who and what she was – it’s all I can think about when we learn new stuff; what would she have thought of it all? What would it be like if she was still here, seeing it all with me?

     It was all for nothing in the end anyway – the truth was out the moment I got my letter… and dad did leave, but not because mum was a witch – he left because she hadn’t lifted a finger to help Lucy”.

     “I’m sorry,” Albus said.

     “Ok, yeah, I get that it’s all sad – and I definitely don’t think that you deserved it or anything – but, like, how does this explain your attempt to murder Scorpi? And it doesn’t make it alright to bully Albus for a year, either. _They_ didn’t hurt your sister,” Rose said.

     “I know. I’m sorry.” Griff fiddled with a blade of grass, not looking at any of them.

      “Hm. _I’m_ not sure that ‘sorry’ is good enough. You’ll have to ask the boys, themselves,” replied Rose.

     Albus swallowed, thinking, then he said, “I forgive you for what you did to me, Griffyn, but not what you did to my best friend. That’s for Scorpius alone to forgive – or not.”

     “That’s OK. I forgive him myself.” Scorpius’ voice was quiet but steady. Griff dared to glance up at him.

     “I don’t think what you have told us excuses what you did to Albus or to me – but it does help me understand more. Besides, I don’t have the concentration to hold grudges.” Scorpius chuckled.

     Albus nodded. “If that’s good enough for Scorpius, then it’s good enough for me”, he said, putting out one hand. Griff took it hesitantly.

     Scorpius smiled to himself, then held out his palm, the Walkman sitting atop it. “You may want this back,” he said, “now we’re friends and all”.

     “Friends?” Griff repeated.

     “ _Friends_?” Rose demanded incredulously.

     “Friends,” confirmed Scorpius, and Albus nodded his agreement.

     “ _Boys_ ,” Rose whispered in exasperation, then conceded with some grace. “Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “But I do still want to know one thing, Griff.”

He looked at her, waiting.

     “Why did you let your mum sew your name into every pair of pants you own?”

      Griff flushed. “Oh… erm… Mum didn’t do that… er, well, _I_ did it. I went into a care home for a few months before Hogwarts – after dad left, mum went off the rails. Anyway, if you didn’t put your name on your things, they went missing – even if they were old pairs of pants. So, um, that’s why. I guess it’s also why I always keep dad’s watch on – I couldn’t let it go walkies. He’ll want it when he comes back for me. And he will come back, I _know_ he will.”

     “Can I show you something?” He asked, looking at Scorpius, begging him to understand. Scorpius nodded.

     Griff slid his thumb under the face of the watch about his wrist and lifted it open. Inside, tucked next to the tiny hinges, and against the metal heart of the watch was a small photo of two children. Their flyaway fair hair was alight in the sun, and their hands clasped tightly. The boy on the right was unmistakably Griff.

     “That’s her. That’s Lucy.” Griff brushed the face of the laughing girl. “Our fifth birthday… It’s the only photo I have left of her. Dad took some and I guess the rest are with mum or something. I don’t know. But… when you took the watch – with this photo in it – it felt like I was …I was losing her again, or something, you know? And I guess I just lost it. I’m so, so sorry”.

“Didn’t I already forgive you for that?” Scorpius smiled kindly.

     “Just like that?”

     “Just like that.”

     “I misjudged you. All of you. You’re better people than I could hope to be”.

     “You got that right”, Rose snorted. Scorpius kicked her.

     “What she means to say is that she’s got the hump with you now but she’ll be fine in like an hour”.

     Griff grinned. Rose rolled her eyes again. Albus laughed softly. They all sat back to enjoy the sun.


	24. Book 2: Prologue - Draco Dormiens Nonquam Titillandus

 

**Prologue**

Scorpius knew as soon as he saw the dragon: 

     _T_ _his_ was magic. 

      A squib he might be, but he could feel the power rolling off the magnificent beast in waves. He felt himself engulfed in its aura; he was drunk on it. His heart beats filled his throat and ears, his blood electric in his veins.  

 _I wonder if the others feel_ _like_ _this every time they use magic?_  

He took a step closer, then another. Albus grabbed him.  

     "What in Merlin's name are you doing?" He signed, horrified.  

      Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I'm training for the ballet, Potter. What does it look like I'm doing?" He grinned, but Albus didn't smile back. His gaze was locked on the dragon. 

     Scorpius eased himself free of his friend's clutches. "Come on, Albie. What would Rose do? Do you think she'd let us get away with seeing a dragon and not even trying to get closer? Besides, Charlie said she was tame!" 

"Rose is not even here", Albus grumbled quietly. He stuck his hands in his pockets and allowed himself to look away from the Long-Tailed Scarlet Reaper to cast a worried glance back at Uncle Charlie. 

     _My dad rode a dragon once_ _,_ he thought – _and it wasn't a tame one, either_. All the same, a dragon was a dragon, and he'd long since realised that he was no Harry Potter. He eyed the sleeping dragon furling and unfurling its tail like a curl of red smoke. Charlie had never said the dragon was tame, either – simply that he and his team had been handling her since birth. He'd always insisted that there was really no curbing that wild streak in their nature. Quietly, Albus had wondered if this was precisely why Charlie loved them. 

     Uncle Charlie had always seemed rather free and wild, himself. He was somewhat dragonesque himself with his large, burned arms, flaming orange hair, and his bright, daredevil smile. When he hugged Albus, he smelled like sunlight and wood-smoke and leather – and it didn't help that he'd had several sharp-coloured dragons tattooed onto his skin (much to Mrs Weasley's dismay). Albus had noticed Scorpius eyeing them in awe as they licked over Charlie's arms at dinner (for magic tattoos moved, of course). Even Charlie, though, wouldn't let Scorpius wander into danger, would he? He was supposed to be watching them. And nana Weasley had promised to feed him to one of his dragons if any harm came to Albus or Scorpius whilst they were under his care.  

     Albus tried to catch Charlie's eye, but his uncle was watching Scorpius' glee in fond amusement. He had been a little reserved with Albus' friend at first; held back in his usual easy affections by the name "Malfoy" and the memory of the war. But Scorpius' unassailable enthusiasm for dragons and genuine admiration for Charlie had broken the ice between them. They now got along like a house on fire, and Albus found himself feeling almost jealous at times.  

 _He's my friend. He's just my friend_ , he told himself. It had become an all-too familiar mantra of late. He glanced away from Charlie to say something to Scorpius, only to find that he had used Albus' moment of distraction to sneak several yards forward. 

" _Scorpi_!" Albus clapped softly to get his attention. Scorpius pressed a finger to his lips. 

     "Shh, she's sleeping. If you wake her up, she won't be happy." Albus could have growled in frustration. "Fine. You're the stubbornest though" 

     "And you're the bestest", Scorpius replied, "now come on!" They crept forward, grateful suddenly for the blazing sun, which had  evaporated all moisture from the earth. Their footfalls made barely a whisper on such soft, dry ground. 

Two steps closer -  

Three steps - 

    The dragon twitched in her sleep, exhaling grey breath like a faulty exhaust engine. Albus felt a cough coming. He fought it back desperately. 

Five steps closer -  

      His throat was itching terribly now. He scratched it with his fingers, but the itch was inside, in his lungs -  

     Ten steps, and the dragon was so near; so very near. Scorpius began to reach out one hand.  

 

     And the cough broke through Albus' lips. He put a hand over his mouth in shock. 

 

The world froze for a second. 

     Close behind him, Albus could feel footsteps pounding the ground. Was Charlie running? Why? He looked back. His uncle was belting towards them at full pelt, his face stricken. He was waving his arms, shouting too, but the words were unclear; frazzled with panic and exertion. Albus could guess what was wrong though; oh, he could guess. 

    The cold crept over him in an instant, the sun blocked out by an enormous shadow. 

A dragon-shaped shadow. He turned. 

    In a beat, he took in the wings, arched and stretched to their full length, their undersides like the ceiling of a scarlet cathedral; the legs, thicker than pillars; the great eye itself bigger than Albus' entire body, and Scorpius, Scorpius standing before it, facing it down, alone, Scorpius, stock still, hand still outstretched, Scorpius -  

     Albus took a step forward, making as if to run to him. Charlie, still panting, grabbed his collar from behind. 

      "Stop!" He signed. "No sudden movements. He'll be OK as long as she doesn't think he's a threat". 

'as long as'. 

'if.' 

'maybe'. 

     Albus found he didn't deal well with uncertainties when it came to Scorpius' life. He bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood, and stared ahead. He could feel himself trembling under the warmth of Charlie's hold. 

And then the dragon roared. 

     "GET DOWN!" Charlie bellowed at Scorpius. He ducked, and just in time; the torrent of fire missed him by seconds. He rolled, his elbows coughing up dust clouds. The dragon followed him with slinking, feline movements. She was eerily graceful for a creature her size.  

     "Lie still!" Charlie ordered. He walked over cautiously, summoning several other dragon keepers with a flare blast from his wand. They surrounded the dragon, closing in, with their own wands raised high. Scorpius pressed his body flat on the ground. This was quite a feat when his blood was pumping fiercely in his ears and he felt like his muscles had turned to liquid adrenaline. Albus could see him breathing raggedly from ten feet away, his white-blond hair stark against the dark ground, half his face iced with that awful, clinging grey dust. Their eyes met. Albus tried to smile reassuringly. Scorpius began to smile back. 

And then the dragon's jaws closed over his head. 

Albus' scream tore from deep inside his throat. It was a haunting blade of sound; feral, terrified, and burning with grief. 


End file.
